


Impossible, Inevitable

by Almaviva47



Series: To Love a Star [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Love at First Sight, Oneshot, Pop Star AU, Pop Star!Clarke, Sassy Raven Reyes, Singer!Clarke, Two-Part, dorky!Lexa, memes refs, smitten clexa, soft clexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almaviva47/pseuds/Almaviva47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lexa is pretty sure her mind is broken. It has to be broken, because Clarke Griffin, international pop star, could not possibly be staring at Lexa. But then, said impossible Clarke Griffin takes a step towards her, and everything in Lexa’s world that isn’t Clarke fades away."</p><p>A Pop Star AU oneshot where Lexa attends Clarke Griffins' tour and is completely and utterly smitten. Much soft clexa, much love at first sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Impossible

**Author's Note:**

> I've been obsessing over this AU as a way to get over my writer's block in my main story, A Blade of Grass. This is going to be super fluffy (like cotton-candy give you cavities because it's so sweet fluff), and it's much lighter than many of my other stories. I've split it up into two parts, and the second one will be posted tomorrow. Enjoy my lovelies!

Lexa hates crowds. She hates how complete strangers suddenly think it is entirely acceptable to break the unspoken rules of society and ignore all concepts of personal space. Sweaty arms and damp chests press up against Lexa, and she nearly gags when a sweat droplet of a stranger falls and rolls across her left shoulder. Her only saving grace is the metal railing pressing tightly to her front that runs all the way across the width of the stadium. Only several feet of buffer room exist between the crowd and the imposing stage before her. Lexa clings to the silvery barricade with all her might. As shitty as this situation is, Lexa at least admires her sister’s ability to aggressively shove her way up to the front row at a concert.

 

 _I am never going out with Anya again_ , Lexa vows with intense conviction. Somehow, her questionably responsible older sister persuaded her that coming to see Clarke and the Delinquents’ _Wanheda_ tour at the Brooklyn Barclays Center would be a fabulous idea. It was the last stop of the tour, a fitting end for the native New York band. Lexa usually preferred the calm and comfort of a night-in, choosing to catch up on work she hadn’t finished at the DA’s office rather than get drunk and flirt with regret. Yet even she was not immune to Anya’s persistence, not to mention that she was tired of telling her colleagues that 'no, I didn't do much over the weekend'. Maybe she does need to get out more, enjoy society and whatnot. But right now, Lexa is desperately calculating the ramifications of this huge mistake.

 

Lexa wrinkles her nose as she takes in the musky scent of weed drifting from a few sections away. She almost wishes she had smoked some herself if only to bend her reality away from its current unsavoriness. Anya had gone off to get two pints of beer, leaving Lexa all alone to fend off the space invaders. Lexa distracts herself as she stares at the dark empty stage, her mind wandering to the group that (at any minute now) will light up the stage in all its excessive brilliance.

 

Unlike most cases where pop culture was concerned, Lexa actually knew about this ragtag band and fairly enjoyed their music whenever it popped up on the radio. The group was known for its catchy and eclectic mixture of style. The whimsical harmonies and eclectic combination of instruments land them in the indie alternative category, though their melodies are catchy enough to demand pop status. The bombastic drums and thrumming beats have flavors of heavy metal and grunge that Lexa secretly relished. But by far, the most critical and alluring ingredient to their success was Clarke Griffin. Captivating, commanding, enigmatic, _beautiful_ Clarke Griffin. The lead vocalist reminds Lexa of a soulful folksinger and a belting powerhouse smashed into a compact blonde. Within a song, Clarke Griffin could effortlessly manipulate her voice to shift along the emotional spectrum that left Lexa uncharacteristically moved. Her creativity and musical vision are what power the singular sound of the band. Her experiences and the depth of her poetry drive the layered emotion in nearly all of her songs. To Lexa, it was an undeniable fact that the majority of the band’s massive success was achieved by Clarke’s genius.

 

A forceful shove on Lexa’s shoulder abruptly interrupts her thoughts and pushes her painfully into the metal railing. Rubbing her aching ribs, Lexa snaps her head around ready to chew off the perpetrator when she comes face to face with Anya, gingerly holding two cups of beer that have miraculously remained full. Lexa wonders how often Anya had partied in college to gain that particular skill.

 

“Ugh, finally!” Anya shimmies over to press against the railing next to Lexa, unbothered by the grumbles of discontented concertgoers around them. “I thought I would never get back in time. Wouldn’t want you to have all the fun without me!”

 

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Oh yes, had I known that going to a concert also includes penguin huddling and a complimentary unhygienic sauna session, I would have agreed sooner.” The dryness of her sarcasm is met with a beer in her face.

 

“Bah, humbug. Stop pretending like you don't secretly fangirl over this band. I’ve caught you singing ‘May We Meet Again’ multiple times in the shower,” Anya grabs Lexa’s hand and wraps her long fingers around the cup. “Bottoms up!” Anya clinks the two cups of beer together before downing her own cup in one fell swoop. Lexa does the same, though mainly because she will undoubtedly spill beer all over herself if she’s holding onto it when the concert begins. Anya wipes the foam from her lips before nudging Lexa, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’ll at least get to enjoy the serious eye candy in this band. My personal favorite is Reyes, but Clarke is pretty easy on the eyes too.”

 

Lexa scoffs, but she can’t hide the involuntary flush that creeps up her neck and face. Of course she had noticed that Clarke Griffin is attractive. It would be quite impossible not do. She carries an infectious energy that only brightens her stunning features. At times Clarke seems utterly unreal, exuding an ethereal aura of that of a legend larger than life. Other times, she seems completely relatable, down-to-earth, and untouched by the vanity of fame. It was that dichotomous combination that drew most people, including Lexa, into her devoted following.

 

Without warning, the lights dim and plunges the audience into darkness. The stadium erupts. Applause and ecstatic screams explode at ear-splitting volumes, and Lexa can’t help but get swept into the joyful pandemonium. Her mood lightens just a little bit as she and Anya exchange gleaming looks. She even joins Anya with a short but enthusiastic woop. Slow shimmering background music fills the stadium, ramping up the audience as they wait with chattering giggles and baited breaths. Backlights gradually light up the stage enough to reveal the outlines of a complex set. Members of the band begin to file onstage, their movements slow and their figures still obscure but for their silhouettes. A small woman with long black hair dressed in a dark leather ensemble makes her way to the drum set, while a tall man with shaggy black hair picks up the bass next to her. The next man walks in almost humbly, his dark skin contrasting starkly against the shine of his white electric guitar as he pulls the straps above him. A tiny athletic girl swaggers onstage, her ponytail swinging wildly around as she strides up to the keyboard and mixer with easy confidence. Anya cheers particularly loud for her and leans closer to the barricade. All members are soon accounted for save one, and Lexa can’t help but feel a swell of anticipation as the crowd gets louder and rowdier. The band drowns the noise out as they begin to play the opening chords of a song. It’s slow, repetitive, and tantalizing, meant to build upon the growing tension in the stadium.

 

Then, rising from a hidden entrance in the stage floor, one lone figure slowly ascends in the middle of the stage. She is shadowed and hidden in the low light, her blonde hair the only visible feature aside from her silhouette. Suddenly, the figure is basked in blinding light as the spotlights converge on the woman, and the stadium erupts in ground-shaking ovation.

 

Lexa feels like she’s been punched in the gut. Not ten feet away stands Clarke Griffin, and she is more beautiful and ethereal than Lexa could have ever imagined. Her blonde hair flows in messy braids and waves, reflecting the gleaming light as it frames her face. Her pale skin glows as a light flush sprinkles her cheeks. Pale pink lips are parted as if in awe of the crowd in front of her. Dark makeup accentuates the gleaming sapphire eyes that coolly scan the sold-out stadium before her. She stands firmly with her feet planted beneath her shoulders, her posture exuding one of complete ease and strength.

 

Lexa is surprised at how much Clarke looks like her pictures, which in retrospect is absolutely ridiculous on Lexa’s part. _Of course she looks like her pictures_ , she scolds herself, _it's_ _pictures, not Picasso paintings_. And yet there was something about Clarke’s presence and the dynamic way her energy fills the stadium that a camera could never capture. The way her blue eyes shine out into the audience and flash with life. The way her body thrums with an aura larger-than-life it demands attention and commands respect. The way the audience reacts to her presence, a group of strangers united by a figure worthy of their mutual adoration and idolization. Lexa realizes no simple snapshot could ever do Clarke Griffin justice, not without diminishing her essence.

 

The sight of her kick starts Lexa’s heart into erratic rhythms the way no picture or person has elicited in her before. Lexa is taken aback by how affected she is by the woman in from of her. She feels as if she were looking at Clarke for the first time, and the privilege and vulnerability that came with that thought sent her pulse racing. Lexa takes in the tight leather ensemble wrapped snuggly around the singer, shiny metal buckles accentuating the curves of her waist and chest. Dark jeans look painted onto toned legs and heeled knee-high boots dig firmly into the ground. The singer looks heavenly and deadly at the same time. Lexa can’t take her eyes off of her.

 

Lexa is entirely distracted and unashamedly admiring Clarke’s figure when she lifts her eyes to find piercing blue staring at her. Her breath stutters to a halt, her whole body set aflame by the intensity shining in that intense gaze. She can’t move, blink, or scarcely breathe. The whole world goes hazy until all she can see is blue, blue, blue. Her mind, the only thing that remains unfrozen, grasps to understand her situation. She must be drunk from that beer or high from all those fumes. Hell, she’d even accept the possibility that she’s hallucinating. Because if she’s not drunk, high, or hallucinating, then that means Clarke Griffin really is staring at her right here and now, and that couldn’t be possible.

 

Their heated stare couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds, and yet each second felt like an eternity. Lexa stares back, eyes wide, face full of disbelief and unnamed emotions. It is Clarke who breaks their stare first, smirking lightly with a tug of her lips as if she had observed Lexa’s indulging gaze across her body. The blonde turns back towards the screaming audience, leaving Lexa utterly dazed and brain-fried. Lexa remains unrecovered several songs into their set, her mind still sizzling from the memory of blue eyes. Anya barely notices any Lexa's befuddled state, fully enraptured in the music and the musicians onstage.

 

“HELLO NEW YORK CITY!” 

 

The crowd screams back as Clarke strides with full confident step to the front of the stage, the hollering crowds growing more frantic and rabid with every swaying stomp of her studded heeled boots. Alarmingly, Clarke is now standing on the stage edge right in front of Lexa, and Lexa can hardly breathe. The blonde was even more stunning up close, her vivacity shining so brilliantly through her pale skin that was already covered with a light sheen of sweat. The reflection of her sweat only made her look celestial as dozens of spotlights turned the small droplets into sparkling stars. As Lexa unashamedly stares at Clarke, she thinks she sees a flash of blue flicker and reach Lexa for a millisecond before pulling away. 

 

"Thank you for supporting us and making our dreams come true!" Clarke beamed, the appreciation and joy in her smile indisputable. "We could not have done  _any_ of this without you!"

 

Clarke looks down and admires the leather ensemble that clung to every curve and line of her body. She takes a few seconds to thank her costume designer, Miller, for pulling through despite her eclectic tastes in fashion. Without preamble, Clarke takes both hands and cups her chest, exaggerating the shadows of her cleavage as she cracks a mischievous grin. “Don’t my tits look great?” The crowd eagerly roars back with enthusiastic screams of affirmation. Lexa nearly chokes at the sight, only to recover a few seconds later and join the chaotic chorus with an appreciative cheer of her own. Despite priding herself on her cool and pragmatic attitude, it was painfully obvious that Lexa was not immune to the singer’s deliciously feminine body and generous assets. The flush in her face and the tightness in her chest only growing in intensity. Suddenly she is grateful for the EMTs standing by with stretchers, oxygen tanks, and cool fluids. The girls around her surely felt the same, though they were far more open about sharing them with others than Lexa.

 

“YAAAAAS QUEEN!”

 

“BLESS YOUR BOBBIES!”

 

“I’M SO GAY!”

 

 _Me too_ , Lexa thought before she could stop herself. God, what had gotten into her? She is a successful and sought-after criminal prosecutor in Brooklyn, “Commander” of the courtroom, and survivor of Anya’s crossfit regiment. She does _not_  loose her cool over a pop star.

 

 _A hot pop star_. Lexa mentally slaps herself before taking a deep breath to clear her mind. But then she remembers the piercing look of blue eyes and her whole body goes into overdrive again.

 

Clarke and the band forge on in their setlist, pounding out hit after hit and filling the stadium with evocative catchy melodies. Clarke is always drawn back to the front of the stage and nearer to her beloved fans. Lexa feels lucky that Clarke favors the right side of the stage tonight and therefore offers her plenty of moments to just admire the singer. Clarke pours her heart and soul into each song, her body swaying, rocking, and pulsing at each powerful phrase. Her voice shimmers throughout the stadium, every rough edge and glossy cascade of melody calling out to the audience like a Greek siren. Lexa is completely enchanted and finds herself pulled inexorably into Clarke’s magnetic influence. Part of her realizes how quickly she is falling for a woman who is utterly unattainable. It's a disaster in the making. Yet just like the sailors who eagerly thrusted themselves upon crashing rocks, Lexa feels all to eager to fall deeper into this blissful abyss.

 

“Hey…I smell marijuana,” Clarke notices an hour into the set, her chest still heaving from her last song while she shifts her head side-to-side trying to sniff out the culprit. She shuffles and juts out her hip, moving to cross her arms over her chest. Her face is all set to reprimand as she cocks up an eyebrow.

 

“Who is not sharing?”

 

The crowd shrieks in response and goes completely ballistic for their rebellious idol. Clarke’s proclivity for using Mary Jane during her creative process has not escaped the public’s attention. Her fans didn’t lovingly dub her the Vape Queen for nothing.

 

After the crowd dies down, Clarke replaces her smirk with a more sobering expression. Her voice, now serious and somber, reminds her audience that as fun as these legal and recreational drugs are, they can always be abused and used more for harm than good. With a shaky breath, Clarke begins sharing her own experience of abusing alcohol and drugs in the three months after the death of her then-boyfriend, musician Finn Collins, and the split from her record label. She had discovered that the label had intentionally overworked him to get more sales, and the constant exhaustion and exertion had trigger Finn’s undiagnosed genetic heart condition. He had collapsed on stage while Clarke looked on in horror from the wings. The tragedy was well known media, and yet Clarke retelling feels far more intimate than any media article. Lexa’s heart, already full of emotions and warmth she can’t quite understand, shatters for the beautiful yet broken artist in front of her. It was clear how much that period still haunts Clarke, and Lexa aches to protect the girl who now looks so small and vulnerable on the vast stage she stands on. Lexa feels a sharp pang in her chest remembering her own personal loss – her parents, her first love. Suddenly, Clarke Griffin doesn’t seem so unworldly and ethereal as before. She is just a young woman who has endured pain and suffering at far too early an age, just like Lexa.

 

“I had no record label, no job, no secure future, and I had just lost a person who I loved,” Clarke continues, her voice unguarded and vulnerable. “I fell into alcohol and drugs to numb the pain, but the more I took, the more it took away. People who I was close to felt unreachable, and it was my own fault. The drugs made me feel like I wasn't even here.” She casts her eyes down, as if she was ashamed and unworthy to make eye contact with her audience.

 

“But _you_ , my beautiful amazing fans. You stuck by me, made me feel whole and loved when the drugs couldn’t. You made me believe I could put myself back together again. I didn't have to be afraid anymore."

Clarke’s voice is thick with genuine emotion, her words shining with honesty and gratefulness. "The only reason I am on stage today is because of you. I cannot tell you how much I truly love each and every one of you. Thank you. _Thank you._ ”

Lexa feels those words lodge themselves deep into the core of her soul. The amount of euphoria and adoration that pulses through her from the words of a stranger who doesn’t even know her would normally seem ridiculous. Yet as she gazes upon the artist before her, in all her fragile magnificence, she can’t help but think that falling for this woman would be the most natural thing in the world.

 

Part way through, Clarke, one of the few out and proud bisexual women in the music industry, dedicates a song to the LGBT community, one of her strongest and most loyal fanbases. She is radiant as she sings and dances around stage, twirling a rainbow flag grasped in her fist as it trails behind her like a cape.

 

“Love is love is love is love!” Clarke chants, waving the rainbow flag proudly as the crowd roars and echoes it back tenfold. The awe in Clarke’s face shines in her eyes as she hears the stadium united in love, and Lexa falls deeper into her spell.

 

Soon, far too soon, the concert has only one more song left on the set list. Lexa mourns how time has passed all too quickly for her, and she wistfully wishes the night could go on forever. Lexa watches as Clarke and the Delinquents kick off the bombastic finale, lights flashing and pulsing in the background. She only has a few minutes left of Clarke Griffin’s presence before she fades and resumes her place in the stationary pictures of tabloid magazines, and the realization feels like someone dumped ice water over her head. She’s taken aback at how visceral the ache in her chest feels and how profound the grief is that washes over her.

 

Overcome by the thought, Lexa decides to thrust herself completely into the last song, a deep pulsing anthem full of relentless and inexplicable attraction. Lexa fully commits to immersing her body and soul into the rhythm of the drums, losing herself to the depths of Clarke’s siren song. Her eyes never leave Clarke, refusing to let a precious second of the artist’s presence slip away.

 

Without warning, Clarke darts off to the left of the stage running down the steps until suddenly, she is off the stage and on the ground floor beyond the metal barricade. The entire stadium explodes with shrill screams as Clarke takes off in a sprint and begins to do a lap around the ground floor. Lexa bits back her groan of disappointment as Clarke runs out of her line of sight. She swivels around, craning her head desperately to find Clarke in the crowd. Is she safe running around the stadium so close to the audience? Does she have security following her? What if she trips and injures herself? Vaguely, in the back of her mind, Lexa is again realizing the absurdity of worrying after Clarke, but she brushes it aside as she continues to sweep her gaze across the stadium, looking for a flash of wavy blonde hair.

 

Suddenly, incredibly, _impossibly_ , right in front of Lexa is that wavy blonde hair, along with that stupidly gorgeous body, that ridiculously sexy outfit, and _that face_. That exquisitely stunning face smudged with dark makeup, covered in sweat, and currently staring two sapphire blue eyes directly at Lexa.

 

Lexa is pretty sure her mind is broken. It has to be broken, because Clarke Griffin, awe-inspiring, charismatic, and _gorgeous_ Clarke Griffin could not possibly be staring at Lexa, _again_.

 

But then, said impossible Clarke Griffin takes a step towards her, and everything in Lexa’s world that isn’t the woman in front of her fades away.

 

_“And the heart is hard to translate_

_It has a language of its own_

_It talks in tongues and quite sighs_

_And prayers and proclamation”_

 

Lexa vaguely hears Clarke singing in the background, but the sound feels distant as if passing through layers of gauze wrapped around her ears. She’s too preoccupied staring at a pair of lips that curl and wrap around every word and note, weaving a spell that captivates Lexa until all she can think about is how those lips would feel pressed up against her skin. Clarke moves even closer to Lexa, eyes never leaving and blazing with growing intensity and she continues to take slow agonizing steps towards Lexa. Lexa feels an aching pull in the middle of her chest towards the woman in front of her, and she cannot help but lean further into the metal railing. Clarke is only a step away, moving as if she too felt that magnetic pull.

 

Clarke steps forward, and the two women connect with a quiet force of an underwater earthquake – silent and unseen yet felt in the very foundations of the earth. Clarke moves with complete fluidity, taking a step and sliding her free hand to cup the side of Lexa’s face as if it were a well-worn move rather than the first touch. Lexa is briefly aware of Anya’s ecstatic whooping and the shoving of disembodied arms desperate to reach out and touch the superstar in front of them. But she can’t feel anything but the scorching heat of Clarke Griffin’s hand as it brushes up her face and slides across her hair, brushing damp strands with tenderness that Lexa hadn't felt in a long time. A rush of emotion sweeps through Lexa, something so strong and shocking and yet so completely _right._

 

“ _And I would give all this and heaven too!_

_I would give it all if only, for a moment,_

_That I could understand the meaning of the words you see_

_Cause I’ve been scrawling it forever but it never made sense to me at all”_

Clarke croons into the mic, never breaking her stare with wide green eyes and hands continue to grace along sloped features. She takes one last step to bring her whole body against the metal barricade that separates her from Lexa and slips her foot in a slot on top of the bottom metal rail. Clarke heaves herself up, and suddenly Lexa finds herself mere inches from the most gorgeous sight she has ever seen. Clarke gazes at her, eyes trailing across her face, her lips curving into a grin that radiates giddiness, and Lexa has never felt more alive and dead at the same time. She’s vaguely aware of the stadium going wild as fans crowd her to get closer to Clarke. But lack of personal space is the farthest thing from her mind, especially when she can almost feel the heat radiating from the beautiful singer.

 

Hands are on Lexa’s face, caressing her temple and gliding over glossy hair, pulling her unbearably closer to Clarke. Clarke lifts her head every so slightly, bringing Lexa’s face just slightly below hers so that her forehead rests on the crown of Lexa’s head, her nose skimming the surface of Lexa’s forehead as she leans in. Lexa swears she takes in a deep inhale as if overcome by their proximity. Lexa is absolutely overwhelmed. She slides her eyes shut and releases a trembling exhale as she feels Clarke’s own breath tickle and heat her cheeks. Without thinking, Lexa reaches out a hand and gently grasps Clarke’s wrist, her other hand travelling further and daring to return Clarke’s touch by cupping the side of Clarke’s face. Lexa has no idea where she summoned all this bravado, her only thought was to keep Clarke as close to her as possible and relish her touch, her smell, her warmth. She can almost hear the satisfaction ringing in Clarke’s voice as she sings her last stanza.

 

_“…And all my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling_

_All this heaven never could describe such a feeling as I’m feeling_

_Words were never so useful_

_So I was screaming out a language that I didn’t know existed before.”_

 

The music fades to a glittering conclusion, and acute ache rams through Lexa when she realizes that now, it truly _is_ over. She feels Clarke gently pull back, her touch still lingering on damp skin, and Lexa briefly entertains the silly thought that Clarke too may feel just as reluctant as she is to have lost contact. Blue eyes once again connect with green, and a spark flashes through Clarke’s eyes before she suddenly darts her head forward and plants a lingering kiss on Lexa’s cheek. Lexa is stunned. Her jaw drops as her hand involuntarily squeezes Clarke’s wrist still captured in her grip. Clarke just grins at her, pulling the mic away from her before leaning in again.

 

“Thanks dollface,” Clarke purrs before offering her a perfect wink and bringing the mic back to her face.

 

“THANK YOU NEW YORK! MAY WE MEET AGAIN!”

 

Clarke suddenly turns and makes a mad dash back to the stage and disappears in a flash of shiny leather and golden hair, leaving Lexa completely dumbstruck and stupidly stroking her cheek that was branded with the red of Clarke’s lipstick.

 

Lexa hardly registers the stadium lighting back up, the slow filing of fans off of the floor, or the rain of aggressive jabs her sister lands on her side about what she just witnessed. Lexa’s grateful they are packed so upfront and therefore couldn’t move just yet, because there is no way her mind could comprehend what just happened while also controlling her motor function. Just before she and Anya finally saw an opening in the audience, hands fall on either of their shoulders. They jerk around to see a giant man, obviously a bodyguard, regarding them with a passive expression.

 

“Clarke Griffin would like to express her thanks for your attendance tonight. She requests that you come backstage and be given VIP access. Would you like to accept?”

 

...What. The fuck.

 

Lexa can’t talk, too astounded to answer. Luckily for her, Anya all to eagerly accepts and drags Lexa to trail after the bodyguard, who leads them further and further backstage. This is now just another thing to add to the list of events that she still has no idea how to comprehend. She had so many questions, most of which she could not yet form with words. Emotionally, Lexa feels like a she's been pinata'ed and thrashed about, now hanging just on the verge of spilling. Like a zombie, she follows Anya, who all but drags her by the hand trailing after the massive tree of a man towards the stage door. Wild theories stir up worry within her, but the warmth that blossomed in her chest at the thought of potentially seeing Clarke Griffin again make her feel something strangely akin to hope. Maybe she’ll finally get some answers from Clarke, even if they aren’t the answers she hopes for.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second part of the one-shot coming up tomorrow! Thanks for reading! Leave your kudos and comments below :) they are much appreciated.
> 
> Song: All This and Heaven Too by Florence + the Machine


	2. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa meet again, and what happens defies all odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be still, my heart.
> 
> Guys, this chapter, OH MAN this chapter. I have ruined love for me because it will never be as perfect as Clexa. Thank you so much for all the love in the first chapter. I am so very proud of this work, and I hope you guys enjoy this. If you have prompts, I am open to hearing from you. No guarantees, but I might be inspired to do another oneshot!

Clarke is staring pensively in no particular direction when her assistant knocks on her dressing room door to announce the arrival of her visitors. Clarke lets out a grateful sigh, relieved that her quick thinking to send her bodyguard on a wild goose chase actually paid off. She is uncharacteristically tense for having just finished a two-hour set. Usually, exhaustion has seeped well into her bones by the time Clarke makes it to her dressing room, and it wasn’t uncommon for her band mates to find her fast asleep over her laptop trying to squeeze in some last minute edits on a recording. But tonight was different. Her veins thrum and pulse with adrenaline, her legs bounce as if to relieve the building pressure in her chest. She likes to think it was the fact that she is back in New York and that playing for her most devoted fans had riled her up. But she already knew why tonight was different.

 

From the moment she stepped on stage Clarke had taken notice of the mysterious brunette. Her beauty had stunned Clarke silly with her strong slender frame, mass of wavy hair, and astonishingly green eyes. For a brief moment Clarke had forgotten the screaming stadium in front of her. She managed to refocus most of her attention back to her performance and the rabid audience around her, but she couldn’t resist peaking and getting closer to the brunette all throughout the night.

 

Clarke wishes it was just lust that drew her to the girl. Lust could at least be tamed with time and resilience. But this is different. There was something magnetic about the woman, something that lies beyond her physical attractiveness that draws Clarke’s attention. She can feel it, simmering beneath the surface within the gleam of emerald eyes. It is like the moments right before Clarke composes, her fingers poised above the keyboard, words still forming on the tip of her tongue as notes alchemize into melodies, where she can almost taste the boundless potential and inevitability. Perhaps that was what compelled her to bound down the stage and do what she had been aching to do all evening. When Clarke touched the woman for the first time, her hand gracing over a stunned face, her breath had nearly been forced out of her chest. She knew nothing about her, and yet looking at her, being near her, touching her, ignited such a strong sense of belonging that even Clarke’s whimsical romanticism didn’t quite know how to handle it.

 

Clarke, as insane as she feels in the moment, is at least aware of how completely foolish and insane it is to chase a girl she doesn’t know after physically smothering her without explicit permission. But she also knows that whatever had passed between them was too important to not warrant a second look. So here she is, still in her performance outfit, sweat still cooling on her skin, gathering up her wits and standing awkwardly by the door before she walks out to greet her mysterious guest.

 

Clarke is already out the door heading down to the waiting room when her stomach plummets with sudden dread. She made the mistake of replaying for the tenth time the events of the past half hour when realization dawns on her. Clarke groans, mentally kicking herself. From a purely objective point of view, she had literally launched herself at the brunette without warning and promptly invited her backstage to “express her thanks”. Clarke is appropriately mortified. She might as well be waving a red flag in her hand when she meets her. _You idiot,_ Clarke cringes, _if you didn’t scare her before you’ve definitely set off alarm bells now_.

 

She glances down the corridor, the red door of the waiting room taunting her just a few feet away. _She’s right there_ , Clarke thinks, trying to steady her breathing. _She’s here because you asked her to be and she agreed. You can’t back out now, not when you still can’t shake that feeling out of your mind, not when need to understand what the hell just happened._

 

Clarkes shakes her arms and head lightly, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, performing the pre-tour ritual to calm her nerves. She pushes forward and opens the door only to be greeted by an unexpected sight. Three women are crowded around each other, their attention preoccupied by some object in the middle. Clarke immediately catches Raven in the group wearing a proud smirk, her face in full view between the backs of the two other women. She can see one woman has blonde messy hair draping down a broad and athletic frame. She is talking animatedly with Raven, who continues to gleam with pride. The other woman has wavy brown hair (soft too, this Clarke knows) draping down between sharp shoulders and a slender frame. Her feet frozen on the carpet floor, Clarke can only stare. Raven notices Clarke at the doorway and perks up, and Clarke sighs inwardly knowing she is about to be rescued.

 

“Clarke! Nice of you to finally join us! I was just keeping these girls company and showing them the new mods I made on the synthesizer," Raven says a little too enthusiastically. Her eyebrow quirks coyly, eyes darting to the brunette that has thoroughly knocked Clarke's night off course. "I even sampled that melody you wrote a week ago on it, thought I'm _pretty sure_ the only reason it might be a future single is because of this bad boy. I’m sure they can all agree now that I am the most essential member of our band.”

 

Raven’s greeting spurs both women to turn around to face her. Clarke's heart slam into her chest like a train on a track. The brunette is absolutely breathtaking. Her striking features, previously shadowed by the stadium's poor lighting, are now fully on display in the well lit waiting room. For a split second, Clarke ascends to a different plane of existence where she promptly begins to freak out _very_ vocally.

 

 _What has gotten into me?_ She has literally held conversations with Grammy winners and music legends. Yet here she is, completely thunderstruck by a pretty girl.

 

After a much-needed moment, Clarke descends back to reality and distracts herself temporarily by turning her attention to her problematic best friend.

 

“Clearly, you’re not quite essential enough to be immune from expulsion for revealing _confidential_ material to our guests here,” Clarke quips, arching her eyebrow menacingly. It only fuels Raven’s grin to stretch wider with mischievous glee.

 

Clarke turns her attention back to the brunette and flashes her most brilliant smile, her eagerness to get to know the gorgeous girl in front of her pushing her trepidations aside momentarily. The performer in her stretches her muscles as Clarke settles into a familiar routine. She saunters forward, ignoring her thundering heart and the strange gleam in Raven’s eyes as she extends her hand out.

 

“Hi, I’m Clarke. Thank you so much for coming,” she said earnestly.

 

The girl looks momentarily stunned and stares dumbly at Clarke’s waiting hand. She seems to shake herself out of a reverie before slipping a warm hand into Clarke’s. The touch is just as electrifying as before. Bright green eyes flit up to look at Clarke, still slightly wide as if they were still processing who they were staring at.

 

“Hi, I’m Lexa.”

 

Clarke nearly melts at the brunette’s melodic voice. As a singer, Clarke has always been particularly sensitive towards voices. If she wanted to be dramatic, she would even say that a person’s voice could make or break her relationships. Lexa’s is on another level. It was almost song-like, flowing with a smoothness and richness that matched perfectly with the higher register of her voice. She speaks with soft and calm tones, yet Clarke could easily see that voice ring out fully with a powerful resonance that commands attention. Clarke thinks that she might actually be the first person to fall in love with someone based on voice alone.

 

“Lexa,” Clarke echoes dumbly, though convincingly sincere. She relishes how the name rolls off her tongue almost sensually. “It’s so lovely to meet you. Officially.” She throws a sly wink at the brunette and adores the way Lexa’s cheeks flush.

 

Clarke squeezes the slender hand in her grip lightly before reluctantly releasing it. She manages to tear her gaze away from Lexa to face at the smirking blonde beside her. Lexa remains still, slowly dropping her released hand, eyes unfocused and dazed. Clarke flickers her gaze between the two women. Realization hits Lexa, her eyes going wide and her mouth dropping in a silent “O” as she fumbles in her recovery.

 

“O-Oh, right um, this is my sister, Anya.”

 

“It’s so great to meet you! I’m a huge fan of your work,” Anya eagerly shakes Clarke’s offered hand. “I never would have imagined I’d get the chance to meet you, let alone be invited personally to come backstage!”

 

Clarke chuckles, delighted to see genuine excitement from her newfound fan. “It’s my pleasure. It’s the least I could do after putting you two at the epicenter of my finale. I see you’ve already met my original delinquent.”

 

Raven puffs up at the title. “You mean your better half.”

 

“Yeah, if by better half you mean the parasitic and less attractive conjoined twin I’m forced to share my life with.”

 

“Well that’s because you literally can’t live without me.”

 

“Says the girl who called me ‘mom’ yesterday, un-sarcastically.”

 

Raven rolls her eyes as a lopsided grin tugs at her lips. “Alright, I concede your victory in our verbal sparring only because I know it might last over an hour if I don’t graciously let you win.” She shifts her eyes from Clarke to look at the women beside her. “Besides, we’ve got better things to do, like impress pretty women.” Raven’s eyes glint mischievously as she gives a pointed look at Clarke and waggles her eyebrows.

 

Before Clarke can sputter out her protest and hide her growing blush, Raven grabs Anya’s arm and tugs her out of the room, chatting excitedly about her other innovations. Anya looks ecstatic and follows her eagerly, leaving Clarke alone next to Lexa.

 

Clarke looks at Lexa, who looks like she is fighting off a similar case of intense embarrassment. A smile tugs at her lips before she quirks her head towards the door.

 

“Lexa, you mind joining me back in my dressing room? I’ve got a few mindless tasks to take care of and I’d love company.” Clarke shrugs her shoulders in an effort to seem casual. “I’d like the chance to get to know you better, if that’s alright with you.”

 

Lexa merely continues to stare as she gives Clarke a slight nod, her face still slightly bewildered. Clarke’s grin widens, not at all unfazed by her silence. They walk out and head down the corridor back to Clarke’s room. Clarke’s eyes can’t help but flick to the girl beside her, her heart jumping when she sees the girl doing to same thing with Clarke.

 

“I hope you enjoyed the concert.”

 

Clarke is delighted to see Lexa's eyes light up in response. “I did, very much. I didn’t know live concerts could be so exhilarating! It almost felt like an out of body experience, especially towards the end.”

 

Clarke flushes as she remembers particular moments at the end of her concert and recalls just how _in_ her body she felt pressed up against Lexa.

 

“I’m glad you think so. I saved my favorite songs for the ending. Singing a love song that basically is trying to invalidate itself is oddly romantic to me.” Clarke looks at Lexa, who is wearing a content smile on her lips and hums her agreement. Clarke works up the courage before bringing up what must be going through both their minds at the moment.

 

“Look, um, at the end of the concert, when we…” Clarke swallows nervously. “When we first met, I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable in any way. I know I didn’t get your permission to approach you, and I’m sure you were overwhelmed." Clarke picks at her fingernails, a nervous habit she's retained since childhood. "I was really getting into the performance, and you didn’t seem to mind…I just want to apologize if I crossed any boundaries.”

 

Lexa looks up at her in surprise. Clarke Griffin, a celebrity who has every excuse to assume she can do what she pleases in her own show, is apologizing to Lexa for not respecting her space. It’s even more ludicrous when Clarke is apologizing for essentially giving Lexa one of the most life-changing experiences of her life.

 

“Oh, not at all! It was ama- I mean, it was…it was memorable.” Lexa can literally feel the heat on her face from her growing blush. “Anya will definitely tease me for it, but it was worth it. There is absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

 

“Ha! I’m relieved to hear that.”

 

The two women share glances as they walk down the hall, both reveling in the knowledge that they both agreed how very _very_ memorable their first meeting was. Their hands brush occasionally as they walk down the narrow hall, sending shivers across arms and spines. The most delicious tension begins to coil between them.

 

Clarke reaches the door first and grasps the handle. She turns back to Lexa and strikes a devilish look as she pushes the door open.

 

“Welcome to my lair. Beware of haphazard sheet music and eclectic musical instruments.”

 

Lexa chuckles at Clarke’s playfulness, no doubt surprised at how playful and uninhibited Clarke is with her. After a quick glance for permission, she steps in.

 

Lexa’s eyes immediately widen. Her jaw drops open slightly as she takes in the large dressing room. Every wall of the room is plastered with art. Pencil drawings, cartoons, watercolor, computer graphics, all ranging in quality from questionable amateur scribbles to full blown professional grade. Nearly all the drawings are of Clarke or the band. Only a few large canvas oil paintings of landscapes seem to have no relation to the band at all. Lexa drifts into the room, still in awe as she soaks in Clarke's room.

 

“It's mostly fan art.” Clarke follows behind Lexa, reading the stunned expression on her face. “I get a lot of them after every performance, and I try my best to have them posted on my walls at least for one night. My assistant has the thankless job of rotating through them every once in a while.”

 

Lexa finds herself drawn to one of the larger canvas paintings containing a landscape of a vast forest. She stretches out a hand as if to stroke the textured brushstrokes. “Who gave you this one?”

 

“Oh that one? That’s one of mine," Clarke says in a casual tone, eager to avoid boasting. "I usually don’t like to put my own stuff here, but going on a worldwide tour can be disorienting, spatially. That painting reminds me a bit of the outside world.”

 

Lexa looks back at Clarke, her green eyes wide with shock. “You painted this?”

 

Clarke nods, almost embarrassingly. She doesn’t like to mention her art often, but somehow she doesn’t mind Lexa looking at it, especially when she looks at it with such reverence.

 

“Clarke, this is amazing.”

 

“Thank you. But really I think the best part of the room is all the fan art. It’s so touching to see how much our music has affected them. It’s the highest form of flattery, knowing your work is helping someone out there. God only knows how much my fans have gotten me through tough times.”

 

Clarke walks over to one wall and strokes a particularly striking drawing of her with war paint smeared across her face.

 

“They made me feel like a warrior when I felt like I couldn’t fight anymore. I know some people think it’s silly, how much love I hold for fans. But…they saved me, you know?”

 

Clarke suddenly realizes how deep she’s gotten in her conversation and that Lexa probably had no intention of serving as a shrink when she invited her in. Clarke sighs and leans against her couch, uneasiness interrupting the confidence she had built in the past fifteen minutes.

 

“It’s not strange.”

 

Clarke turns her head to look at Lexa. She is wearing an undecipherable emotion on her face that softens when she reads sadness in Clarke’s eyes. Clarke looks at her questioningly, silently asking her to continue.

 

“It’s not strange,” Lexa repeats, taking a small step towards Clarke. “It’s brave. Tonight, when you stood up on stage and spoke about your loss, you left yourself vulnerable in front of thousands of people. You shared your pain, and in the process, you gave someone out there who is also suffering a chance to connect and find courage in your story. That’s not weakness, it’s strength.”

 

Conviction rang in Lexa’s voice. Clarke marveled at the way it both intimidated and comforted her. But that conviction is soon replaced by something darker, more sorrowful.

 

“When I was twelve, my parents died in a drunk driving accident," Lexa purses her lips as jaws clench around difficult memories. "Everything about life after that was hard, but it got easier when I met Costia. She and I met in college, and for a while things felt easier, lighter, happier. On the eve of our one-year anniversary, she was walking home one night with a friend and got stopped by the police looking for a suspect. Her friend got aggressive, and the guns came out. In the confusion, Costia was shot dead in the middle of a dark alley.”

 

Lexa takes a shaky breath before continuing.

 

“It was like a cruel twist of fate. I thought I would never get over the pain, but I did. I turned that agony and hate into fighting for justice. Joining the DA’s office was like a dream come true. People ask me why I slave over my job. Truth is, it’s my way of coping with my loss.”

 

Clarke looks on the verge of tears. Lexa reaches out and lightly grazes her forearm. Clarke sees the emotion shining in her green eyes as she looks at Clarke with complete earnest and admiration.

 

“Clarke, the point I’m trying to make is that people like us, people who have had far too much pain at such a young age, we do strange things to cope with what we’ve faced. And sharing how we beat that pain against all odds is never something to feel ashamed of. You say that the fans saved you. But really, you are saving each other.”

 

Clarke is speechless. Lexa’s confession has floored her, and all she can do is stare back and try to swallow down the emotions that threaten to spill from her.

 

“Lexa…thank you,” Clarke says with quiet intensity. “You didn’t have to share that with me, but I’m so glad you did. I…I needed to hear that.”

 

Lexa answers with a sympathetic smile and small nod, her fingers dropping from Clarke’s forearm and she takes a step back to give Clarke space. The air in the room grows stuffy with the heavy mood that settles over them. Tension that had been building since the waiting room grows taunt, like a rubber band stretch nearly to its limit. Both Clarke and Lexa are awkwardly standing there, trying to find the right way to break the silence. It seems nearly impossible.

 

“I like candles.”

 

The declaration is abrupt and unexpected. Clarke furrows her brow and jerks her head back to Lexa wearing a sheepish look. The atmosphere shifts from its somber state.

 

“I, uh, I really like candles,” Lexa repeats, shuffling her feet, refusing to meet Clarke’s eyes. “I go to Yankee Candle and practically buy them out.”

 

Clarke tilts her head curiously. _And…?_ Clarke asks internally as continues staring at Lexa, a grin tugging at her lips as she arches her eyebrow. Lexa flicks her eyes up just in time to catch Clarke’s unasked question.

 

“Well," Lexa says with awkward casualness, "since we were sharing some very deep and personal things, I thought it only fair to share my deepest and most shameful secret. It’s honestly a serious addiction. I might burn my apartment down because of it, but at least it will smell nice as it goes up in flames.”

 

Lexa looks up at Clarke again, gauging her reaction. She prays her attempt at bringing more levity to their conversation doesn’t fall flat. Clarke’s face remains blank. Her heart starts to sink. Lexa is just about to backpedal so hard when Clarke breaks out into the most radiant smile. A huge guffaw of a laugh escapes Clarke as she throws her head back, blonde waves following her as her whole body shakes with laughter. Lexa body sags with relief, grateful she hasn’t embarrassed herself even more in front of the beautiful singer. She sees the pure joy etched on Clarke’s face and can’t help breaking into a laugh of her own. They laugh and laugh until they can hardly catch their breaths.

 

Clarke hugs her burning abdomen as she wipes at the side of her eyes when she finally regains control. Her eyes sparkle as she takes in Lexa, still shaking from her own fit of laughter. Her body warms at the sight of the achingly beautiful woman who willingly made herself vulnerable one moment and silly the next just to cheer up Clarke. Now that Clarke is famous, she finds the number of people who genuinely appeal to Clarke as a person and not a celebrity who demands fawning have declined rapidly. She is happy beyond words that Lexa is part of that rare crowd.

 

“I guess it’s a good thing that I happen to tolerate candles,” Clarke replies, mirth dancing in sapphire eyes. “I don’t know what I would do if something as silly as some pyro technique wax came between us.” Lexa grins at Clarke and bites her lip to prevent another peal of laughter escaping her mouth. Clarke finds it unbearable attractive.

 

They fall into an easy conversation, flitting around from serious discussions to trivial comments. They talk as if they had known each other for years, not mere hours. It’s comfortable, easy, and liberating. Neither woman acknowledges how strangely intimate it feels, and both are unwilling to break the spell that has been cast over them. The room around them seems to glow in warm hue as light laughter from both women bounce off the walls.

 

They shift closer and closer together until there is barely a foot away. Clarke rests easily against the back of her couch, her hips buttressed by the hard edge of the couch as she leans back on hands placed on either side. Lexa faces Clarke at a right angle, her feet planted next to a nearby chez lounge. She leans her weight into her right arm, currently resting just a few inches away from Clarke’s on the edge of the couch. Her posture is a picture of east and openness. Clarke’s eyes gleam when she manages to draw out a hearty laugh from Lexa, loving the way she throws back her head and squeezes her eyes shut. She wonders when her heart will stop doing backflips in her chest.

 

“Hey,” Clarke reaches out her hand and lightly drapes it over Lexa’s when her laugh dies down. She only keeps it there for a few seconds, but her palm tingles long after she pulls back her touch. “I really appreciate you being so understanding about…” Clarke gesticulates wildly to the space around them, “all of this. I’m not sure most people would have taken my abrupt invitation and this rather personal conversation without thinking I was creepy or stalker-y.” Clarke winces at her word choices. _You are really making this harder for yourself, aren’t you?_ Clarke groans.

 

“Are you kidding me? I think most people would be thrilled,” Lexa blushes, eyes flickering down to her hand that had just seconds ago been graced by Clarke’s touch. She resists taking a few seconds to try and memorize the delicious feeling and returns her gaze back to Clarke. “Besides, I’m not a secret paparazzo ready to spill my guts to the nearest tabloid. I’m honestly still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m having this conversation with you in the first place.”

 

Clarke laughs, eyes glowing with mirth. “Well, I appreciate it nonetheless. You never know in this industry. Anyone could go on and make a crazy rumor about you with the slightest bit of contextualized interaction.”

 

Lexa smirks, eyes unable to take her eyes off of Clarke and her radiating smile. “Huh, well lucky for you, I’m not very dramatic.”

 

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty hammy to me back when I serenaded you,” Clarke’s blue eyes gleam playfully as she wiggles her eyebrow suggestively. “I rather enjoyed it.”

 

Lexa is at a loss for words, suddenly feeling flushed remembering the caress of Clarke’s hand, the heat of her breath on her cheeks, and the intensity that gleamed in her eyes just as it did now. She looked away, clearing her throat loudly hoping Clarke hadn’t seen through her thoughts.

 

“I’m sure all the other guys and girls you pick each concert react the same way.”

 

Clarke knits her eyebrows, confusion glossing over her face as she tilts her head. “Others? I’ve never done that before at any of my concerts. You were an entirely unexpected event.”

 

Lexa turns back to stare at Clarke incredulously. “Wait, so you’ve never done that before? It wasn’t planned?”

 

“Nope. Entirely spontaneous.”

 

“But...why? I mean, what was so special about tonight that made you want to end it that way?”

 

Lexa is utterly perplexed, her big eyes and furrowed eyebrows making her look far more adorable that she realizes, and Clarke nearly shakes her head in disbelief. _She has no idea the effect she has on people_ , Clarke thinks. Lexa has no idea that in the span of one night, she has made Clarke feel more understood and cared for than she has in a long while. She has no idea that Clarke has been feeling the same inexorable pull and yearning for that same sense of belonging ever since they parted at the barricade.

 

Clarke looks intensely at Lexa, blue eyes burning as fiercely as they did the first time they connected on stage. She takes a deep breath before biting the bullet.

 

“You.”

 

Lexa snaps her attention back to Clarke, her eyes widening and lips parting in surprise. She gulps almost audibly as if swallowing back the shock of Clarke’s answer.

 

“I saw you, from the moment I stepped on stage. And I knew that if we were under different circumstances, if we were just two normal girls at opposite ends of a bar, I would have walked up to you and introduced myself. “

 

Clarke leans forward, her body still resting against the couch but now thrumming with energy. Blue eyes continue to blaze. “Then I realized nothing was stopping me from doing just that, and I don’t regret it one bit.”

 

Lexa is suddenly set aflame with hope and desire. Her mind may not have processed, but her body seems more than ready to receive Clarke’s sudden confession.

 

Lexa is damn good at reading people. She sees a victim in hunched shoulders and flinching movements. She sees a liar in averted glances and rapid eye blinking. One flicker of uncertainty is all Lexa needs to skewer a criminal and leave him out to dry. It’s a prerequisite for a successful lawyer like herself to interpret the slightest of body languages, latch onto it in the courtroom, and manipulate it to achieve the outcome she wanted. And right now, Clarke Griffin was giving her all the signs that pointed to a clear and undeniable conclusion of what she was feeling: Attraction. Pure, magnetic, heated attraction. She sees excitement in the quick breaths escaping through open inviting lips. She sees yearning in the way Clarke’s body tilts and angles towards Lexa. She sees desire in the dilated pupils of sapphire eyes that always seem to seek out her own at every glance. Lexa saw and registered each and every signal Clarke has sent her way, and she is sure that she has sent equally charged signals right back.

 

Lexa is not shy of making the first move, especially when she has been given more than enough reasons to believe her actions will be well received. And yet, Lexa is utterly paralyzed, staring at Clarke as the singer leans gently against the couch, chin tilted down yet refusing to break eye contact. Lexa’s whole body courses with a desire she didn’t know she could possess. Her mind races with the thought of pressing her lips to the crook of Clarke’s neck, how soft pale skin would feel underneath Lexa’s fingers, how her lips would move when she pressed into them with her own, softly, reverently. Why the hell can’t she move?

 

Clarke shuffles her feet and glances down at the ridged edges of her couch, painfully aware of the silence stretching between them. She tries to preoccupy herself and relieve the tension by gently grazing the decorative patterns with the tips of her fingers. Lexa’s eyes follow her fingers, and then she remembers the frames of art and drawings decorating Clarke’s dressing room. A sudden pang fills Lexa when she realizes how much she wants to see those same delicate fingers grasp the end of a brush and fill canvases with vibrant colors. She wants to see the joy on Clarke’s face as she loses herself in her own world, fingers flitting over the black and white keys and melodies filling the air. Her heart swells at the thought of those same fingers interlaced with her own, tangled in warm and well-worn sheets. Her mind shutters to a stop. _Passion_ , Lexa thinks incredulously. God, how could that be? The impossibility of developing such a strong emotion in just an evening baffles Lexa, and yet the evidence is laid entirely bare in front of Lexa. She didn’t even know when in the course of the evening she had fallen for Clarke, whether it was their moment at the barricade, her trust in revealing her vulnerability to Lexa, or the first time their eyes met, but she did, and there was no going back.

 

Lexa opens her mouth, trying to find a way to confess her feelings only to find herself robbed of words. Clarke stops her ministrations, head tilting back up to look up at Lexa expectantly, her eyebrow arched and asking. Dreadful seconds tick by, and Lexa nearly screams in frustration. Clarke sees Lexa’s hesitation and releases a gentle sigh of resignation. She forces a sad smile up at Lexa, trying not to notice the ache in her chest. She moves to get up and makes for the door, her eyes downcast and shoulders hunched in embarrassment.

 

“I, uh, - I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said -," Clarke stutters out, and Lexa's heart lurches at how dejected she sounds. "I’ve kept you away from your sister for far too long. Who knows where Raven's take her to,” Clarke laughs forcefully and walks hastily as if she can’t wait to get out of the room, her words spilling out far too quickly. She brushes past Lexa as she leaves, her shoulder grazes Lexa and she shivers at the contact. Clarke tries to push it to the back of her mind as she bulldozes past Lexa.

 

“I’m sure they’re nearby, let’s go fi-”

 

A hand suddenly wraps tightly around her arm, stopping Clarke from taking her next step before roughly pulling her into a heated embrace. Another hand wraps around the nape of Clarke’s neck and buries itself into sleek blonde hair before pulling her forward. Lips crash into her own, full of softness and passion and tenderness despite the urgency that course through them. Clarke gasps in surprise before eagerly melting into the kiss. She moves her lips in matching fervent rhythms as she pressed herself into the slender frame against her. Clarke’s heart races and spike of heat pulses through her when she feels an answering press from Lexa as they push impossibly closer. Her arms wrap around Lexa, one hand gripping tightly to the small of her back and another cupping the sharp angle of her jaw. Clarke presses her lips insistently, hungry for more of those sinfully full lips. Clarke runs the tip of her tongue along the bottom of Lexa’s lips, and Lexa sucks in a short gasp that ignites a flame in the pit of Clarke’s belly. Clarke takes advantage and dips her tongue to flick the roof of Lexa’s mouth before enclosing her mouth around her bottom lips and gently sucking. Lexa releases a groan that sounds like it came from deep within her soul, her hands tightening on the back of her neck to keep Clarke as close to her as possible. Clarke shudders in response and feels her body grow impossibly hotter. Their lips move, pushing and pulling, nipping and sucking, one chasing after the other refusing to stop their feverish dance. God, Clarke’s kissing Lexa, she’s kissing her and it feel like everything she’s written and sang about _and more_.

 

Clarke feels Lexa push forward and takes a step back. Lexa edges them further and further back, all the while never breaking contact between their lips and refusing to let any space get between their tightly pressed bodies. Clarke pulls back and lets out a yelp of surprise when the backs of her thighs bump roughly against a hard edge. Her noise of surprise dissolves into a small moan when she realizes Lexa has pushed her against the make up counter of her dressing room. Lexa swallows Clarke’s moan with another fiery kiss. Tongues and lips move in tantalizing and scorching patterns. Lexa releases her grip on Clarke’s arm and trails her hand down the side of her body, relishing the shudder that ripples through Clarke while holding a quivering gasp of her own. Her hand travels lower and lower, slowing down as she traces down the curve of Clarke’s backside before settling on her back thigh. She lingers, gently grazing her fingertips across the clothed skin, gently asking permission to continue as she savors the warmth that seeps through Clarke’s clothes all around her. Clarke merely clutches Lexa closer to her, her hand desperately pushing the small of Lexa’s back and kissing her back fervently.

 

Lexa smirks against Clarke’s lips as she simultaneously pushes Clarke forward and lifts her leg up in one fluid movement. Clarke gasps as she slides onto the counter, knocking over bottles of makeup and cans of hairspray in her haste to make room. Desire shoots through her and settles low as she eagerly wraps her legs around Lexa, letting out a groan when she feels Lexa push her hips with just the right pressure and shivering when she hears an answering groan vibrate against her lips. She pants desperately when lips part from hers only to feel the fingers entangled in her blonde hair suddenly grip tighter. Lexa angles Clarke to the side to reveal a tantalizingly accessible neck. She plants a trail of kisses up the side of Clarke’s jaw before traveling down her neck and landing on her soft pulse point, sucking and biting and nipping at the soft and sweet skin.

 

“ _Lexa_ ,” Clarke gasps, unable to contain the want in her voice. She digs her hand further into wavy brown hair, keeping Lexa’s head firmly and deliciously latched on her neck as she pants with abandon. Her mind is completely consumed by the wonderful sensations tingling from her neck down her spine as full lips continue to leave dark bruises all over her. Lexa hums in utter satisfaction as she continues to gently suck a path from her neck to the ridge of her collarbone. Clarke clutches tightly to Lexa’s shirt and pulls her in, desire fueling her need to feel that wonderful pressure again. Lexa immediately response and rocks her hips firmly into Clarke eager to provide anything and everything for Clarke. Clarke nearly keens at the sensation and grips onto Lexa tighter, begging for her to keep going.

 

Both women are utterly consumed by each other, unable and unwilling to surrender to the beckoning of reality and common sense. They feel themselves on a precipice, dangerously edging towards something that they know they cannot cross yet cannot seem to resist. Mouths meet again asa fever rages through them both, driving them mad with heat and desire until they both are about to combust.

 

A sudden peal of laughter far too close to Clarke’s dressing room door rips the two women apart, though they remained close enough to still be within each other’s arms. Clarke and Lexa cling to each other. Reality seeps back into their world as they try to recover with quick and panting gasps, their foreheads still pressed tightly to each other. They listen to each other’s and try to synch their breathes in an effort to calm down. Lexa is trembling as she takes in the enormity of what just occurred. She is still reeling from kisses so electrifying that just remembering them make her tingle inside. The two women only vaguely hear the sound of Anya and Raven talking animatedly nearby, oblivious to the passionate embrace that threatens to change everything either woman understood about love.

 

Lexa opens her mouth, fully intending on apologizing for launching herself at Clarke, for selfishly indulging her impossible desires, for starting something she wasn’t entirely sure she could stop. But nothing tangible was coming out, only a stutter that sounds like a broken record.

 

“I…I-I…”

 

She is stopped by a finger pressed firmly to her mouth and a firm hand on her side of jaw.

 

“Lexa, look at me.”

 

Her face is tilted up until she is staring at blazing blue eyes. Clarke is staring at her, just like before, but with a gaze so fierce and full of emotion Lexa has never seen before. She doesn’t think she’s seen anything more beautiful in her life.

 

Clarke’s voice rings with urgency. “We don’t have much time left before someone has to call it a night. But I want to see you again. And I know you want to see me again too.”

 

Lexa feels her heart swell with desire. She swallows audibly and tightens her grip on Clarke’s shirt.

 

“God yes,” Lexa replies breathlessly. “Clarke, I’ve never wanted anything more. But how is this ever going to work? What we have, Clarke, what just happened between us, I don’t understand it. It…it scares me.”

 

“I know, it scares me too,” Clarke confesses, her hand trailing down Lexa’s face down to her collarbone and teasing its sharp angles. “It’s crazy and ridiculous and goddamn near impossible to comprehend for the both of us, but all I know is that I _need_ _to_ see you again. I’ve never felt so much for someone, even in just one night. Most of it I can’t explain, but what I do know is that I can’t let it go before I figure out what it all means. What you mean. What _we_ mean.”

 

Lexa feels her whole body ignite in flames at Clarke’s words. She tilts her head forward until her forehead leans against Clarke’s. She shakes her head, still struggling to see how this situation could possibly end well.

 

“Lexa, listen to me,” Clarke whispers against trembling lips. “If there’s anything I learned about my life as a musician, it’s that life doesn’t make sense. The fact that I get to live my dream out on stage every day while musicians with more talent and better work ethic can barely make rent doesn’t compute in my mind. But luck gave me a chance, and I latched onto it with everything I had.”

 

Clarke nuzzles her nose with Lexa’s and loves the small sigh Lexa releases as they shift closer. “My life has taught me to never take luck for granted. When I saw you today, it was like I could finally understand the words I’d been singing about all this time. It felt like something out of a fairy tale, something far too lucky to be real. It scares the shit out of me, feeling the way I do around you. But if you think for one second I’m not going to grab onto this feeling and fight for us…”

 

Clarke falters in her speech, her voice tight and thick with overwhelming emotion.

 

“Please Lexa,” Clarke pleads, her voice trembling. “ _Please_. Give luck a chance. Meet me again.”

 

Lexa is shaking, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She can't believe what she’s just heard. She can't believe that Clarke feels for her this way. Lexa had thought that her untamed affection had been one-sided. At least that way she could try to dismiss it as an exaggerated case of celebrity lust and adrenaline. But now, knowing that Clarke too feels just as affected makes it impossible for Lexa to deny that this woman is literally changing her life minute by minute.

 

She tugs Clarke closer to her and tilts her mouth to brush their lips together.

 

“Yes,” Lexa whispers before bringing their mouths together. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…”

 

Lexa breaks each kiss with every glorious declaration, pressing her mouth into soft lips with increasing tenderness. Clarke grips the nape of Lexa’s neck and whimpers, returning each kiss flavored with relief and joy.

 

“God, Lexa,” Clarke breathes, her desperate sigh brushing Lexa’s lips like a prayer as she tries to clamp down on her overwhelming emotions. “This feels…this feels big. This feels like something I didn’t know I was waiting for. It feels…”

 

“Inevitable,” Lexa whispers back, clenching a hand that had snuck into Clarke’s hair and pulling them closer, their foreheads still pressed tightly against each other. She looks into shining blue eyes and feels her heart clench at the look Clarke is giving her. Clarke looks at Lexa like she is a revelation, like she holds the key to some long forgotten mystery and revealed something utterly life-changing. Lexa feels the same looking into blue eyes, feeling as if she’s looked up and seen the sky for the first time in her life.

 

The two women gaze at each other, unable to control their euphoria as they grin stupidly and trail fingers across soft skin. They both move at the same time, lips meeting each other in a soft lingering kiss. Their hands find each other and entwine to bind them together.

 

They don’t question what is between them anymore. They don’t question that they are comprised of a promising lawyer and a highly visible celebrity. They wouldn’t question the same scenario if they were two girls who met in college, or if they were in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, or if they were two post-war leaders of opposing sides. None of that would matter. Whatever force that flowed between them, be it love or fate or destiny, was enough. No matter how impossible the situation, Clarke and Lexa would always and forever be inevitable.

 

 

tbc 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude, don't you just love Clexa?! I will never be over it. NEVER. Leave your kudos and comments below, they are much appreciated!
> 
> Also please subscribe to this work if you want more! I may have decided to continue this with an epilogue (possible two parter as well).
> 
> If you enjoy my writing (which I hope you do!), please check out my other works! I've got an Amazon AU that is imminently complete (yet another wish fulfillment).


	3. Let me share this life with you (pt. 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back with additional chapters of a story I thought was complete? THIS GUY!
> 
> In honor of Clexa week, I will be posting not one, not two, but three additional posts to this story! There will be a part 2 to this fluffy story (posted tomorrow!) and then a oneshot in the same universe that has got some really juicy smut. I really freakin love their dynamic in this story, and I couldn't resist writing more! I really hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do. 
> 
> Comments and kudos feed my soul, so please leave something for me below!
> 
> I have tumblr now! [Come say hi](https://almavivadreams.tumblr.com)

It is a lazy Sunday morning, though not quite lazy enough to convince Lexa to remain in the comforts of the sprawling bed behind her. She is dressed already, wearing a simple pair of dark skinny jeans and a red silk blouse. Her leather jacket and boots are near the coffee table. Lexa takes another sip of her coffee while enjoying the magnificent view of Central Park from her girlfriend’s penthouse. Lexa quirks a small smile. How bizarrely magical that she’s passed by this building so many times never wondering who could possibly be up here, only to find herself standing in the penthouse sharing a morning with none other than musical sensation Clarke Griffin. The thought still dazzles her, but Lexa has slowly come to terms with the fact that yes, this is reality, yes, she is dating Clarke Griffin, and yes, she is completely and unashamedly in love.

 

Lexa hears the shower turn off followed shortly with the soft padding of approaching feet. When arms wrap around her waist, she closes her eyes and takes a deep sigh of satisfaction.

 

“Good morning,” a husky voice greets her before she feels the lightest kiss ghost the nape of her neck. Lexa hums and leans into the soft touch, ignoring how strands of wet blonde hair are creating damp circles on her back. She turns her head slightly, opening her eyes to be greeted by sapphire ones that she has adored ever since their first shared gaze. When Clarke gives her a dazzling smile, she can’t help but grin back with a love-silly smile.

 

“You smell good,” Lexa compliments, taking a deep breath of the lavender scent Clarke once explained is specially made in France (because of course it is).

 

Clarke steps away, albeit with reluctance. She looks over at Lexa’s steaming cup and groans. “Ugh, _that_ smells so good.”

 

Lexa chuckles. “There’s a cup sitting on the table for you, you addict.”

 

Clarke’s eyes light up. With a quick peck to Lexa’s cheek, she nearly bounces over to the table and lifts the coffee to her nose, taking a great inhale of the aroma like an old-school rock star would with a line of coccaine. Lexa shakes her head at the brazen display of weakness. They’ve been together for months now, but she still adores seeing Clarke’s quirky habits as much as she did the first time she discovered them. Like that time Lexa discovered just how ticklish Clarke is and tormented her on the couch, reveling in the way Clarke squirmed and shrieked with laughter.

 

When Clarke scampers off into her walk-in closet across the room, Lexa plops down on the couch and crosses her legs, knowing it will be some time before Clarke emerges again. Clarke is scheduled for a photo shoot with Vogue, and Lexa would have mention the moot point of dressing up for a shoot that will require Clarke to change multiple times. But she isn’t about to give up the chance to see Clarke in all her stunning glory, so she just sits and finishes her coffee, content to have a free day to spend time with her girlfriend.

 

Dating a celebrity is enlightening to say the least. From the outside looking in, Lexa had thought she had a decent understanding of what a life in the limelight entailed. She wasn’t…wrong, per say, but she wasn’t accurate either. She was correct about the intrusive nature of the media. The first few weeks into their relationship brought a media storm of TMZ, Hollywood Reporter, and photographers who gave Lexa her first introduction to paparazzi etiquette (turns out they don’t have any). After all, one of the most popular female artists of her generation is dating a common civilian who also happens to be a _woman_. It was like Hollywood come to life. Clarke jokes that there will be an Oscar nominated film about them someday that will jumpstart a JLaw replicant’s career. It seems more and more like a possibility with the way the press chased them. Lexa, on her part, expected it all and bore it as well as she could.

 

But what she didn’t expect was Clarke.

 

Clarke, if anything, is fiercely protective of Lexa, but in a manner that didn’t demote Lexa or assume her naivety. She gave Lexa control over how their relationship was going to play out. “If we’re going to do this Lexa,” Clarke had said to her the night after their explosive beginning in between a set of fiery kisses, “If we’re going to be together, I want us to _be together_. I’m not drawing any lines in the sand to protect my image. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide away or pretend not to be with me. Don't worry about anything else. I’ll protect you, I promise.”

 

God, it had only been the second night, and yet it felt like so much had happened already. Clarke had invited Lexa to her second NYC show the night after they met, and their meet-up backstage in her dressing room had quickly devolved into a heady embrace full of desperate lips and intimate gazes. But Lexa was concerned. She knew that as much as the media may scrutinize her, they would focus ten times more on the singer. Lexa didn’t want to put Clarke under that type of attention. Clarke had vehemently disagreed. “Let me handle the press,” Clarke said in a voice so steely that Lexa could only nod before letting herself fall into Clarke once more.

 

And handle the press she did, much to Lexa’s delight. It’s one of the many things Lexa loves about Clarke. She knows how to work a crowd like nobody’s business. And in show business, she thrives in making sure that any media coverage of hers is something she allows, not something they take from her.

 

“That’s the thing about celebrity privacy, Lexa,” Clarke said to her once as they cuddled on their fourth public outing in a private club booth devoid of all paparazzi, “If you really want it, you can get it.” Sure, it cost a pretty penny, but it could be bought. Clarke has always valued privacy, much more than luxury or entertainment. It almost makes Lexa feel guilty, the amount of money Clarke spends to make sure she and Lexa have a relatively normal relationship, but it only makes her fall in love with Clarke faster because she can hug her, kiss her, and be with her the way she always wants to.

 

Lexa is nearly lost in her musings when she hears Clarke yell out that she’ll be done in about five minutes. Lexa manages to slip on her leather jacket, boots, and a pair of Ray bands when Clarke steps out. She’s stunning in high-waist shorts and a colorful bohemian top that shows a delectable amount of blessed cleavage. A pair of suede ankle boots put her just about at Lexa’s height and leaves her legs tantalizingly bare. Her hair is perfectly coiled into waves of sunshine and topped with her own pair of sunglasses, and her face is clear with the exception of a little makeup to accentuate her natural features. It is a sight to behold, and Lexa takes just a minute to indulge in it unashamedly.

 

Clarke seems to be doing the same as she rakes her eyes down Lexa’s body, her face clearly approving of the attire. Lexa smirks when she catches those wandering blue eyes, which earns her a shove and a baseball cap thrust into her open hand. “Here, let’s get out of here before I’m late and make Annie Leibovitz mad.”

 

“I believe the real danger is Anna Wintour, Clarke.”

 

Clarke laughs and grabs onto Lexa’s hand as she leads her to elevator, her heart flipping happily when she feels a squeeze. “Ha! The Devil Wears Prada has greatly overestimated her terror. I can handle he-” Clarke yelps when Lexa tugs her hand and forces their bodies to collide. Her breath catches when she realizes Lexa’s face is just an inch away from hers. Her eyelids slide shut when she feels a gentle press of lips against hers. Clarke melts into Lexa and opens her mouth, letting Lexa slide in a tongue and explore her languidly. There’s nothing salacious or heated about the kiss, only sweetness and tenderness. It still shifts the world beneath their feet.

 

“Uh-huh,” Lexa whispers, pulling away with stars in her eyes. The fuzziness in Clarke eventually dissipates. She lets out an exasperated sigh before snatching the baseball cap grasped limply in Lexa’s hand and tugging it onto Lexa, who now is sporting the cheekiest grin knowing just how easily she can fluster the star.

 

“I swear one of these days…” Clarke doesn’t finish her sentence before pressing for the elevator. When Lexa leans down and presses loving nibbles on her neck, Clarke doesn't resist. By the time the two women reach the bottom floor, Lexa’s paparazzi cap has been knocked off her head and hastily resituated at least twice.

 

\--~--~--~--

 

Clarke has always been good about keeping Lexa included in her projects. She’s come to rely on Lexa’s keen emotional intelligence and her rationality when the music world becomes too much of a bubble emphasizing ‘ _creativity’_ and ‘ _uniqueness’_. Thus, Lexa’s presence is not a surprise to the team but a welcome presence. Most of Clarke’s team has been with her since the start of her career. They had witnessed Clarke unravel in those harrowing months after Finn’s death, and they knew that the only reason why Clarke smiles as radiantly these days is because of Lexa. It was like she was reborn in a matter of days. From the moment after that fateful night in New York City, Clarke had a new spark within her that only grew with each day she spent with Lexa.

 

Both women made a commitment to reduce their busy schedule and make time for each other. Clarke had committed this to Lexa in the beginning. She had seen too often what a busy schedule can do to even the most stable of celebrity couples. Lexa herself tries to cap her time at the office, and while it was more difficult, she was able to do her work remotely more and more often in the comfort of Clarke’s spacious penthouse. Nevertheless, Lexa is grateful for her work, especially the recent promotion at the office that gave her more flexibility to be with her girlfriend.

 

The photo shoot is nearing an end when Lexa notices Anya’s texts. She scrolls through and responds quickly to her nosy sister’s questions about her upcoming birthday next month.

 

Lexa remembers the first time she told Anya about her and Clarke.

 

“You _what_?” Anya gaped at her incredulously. Lexa looked just as dazed and confused. “With _who_??”

 

“Yeah,” Lexa replied dazedly and confusedly.

 

“You…WHAT?!” Anya repeated, her voice growing shriller and shriller.

The rest of the conversation had rapidly dissolved into a hasty interrogation, of which Lexa could hardly remember the conversation as her mind was occupied solely by the feeling of burning lips on her skin. Anya had taken it very well, especially for someone who considered herself a hardcore fan of the band before Lexa. Lexa suspects a raven-haired girl to have contributed to Anya easy acceptance of this very big change in both of their lives. Nonetheless, Lexa was surprised at her sister’s response just solely based upon how unusual the circumstances had been when the relationship started.

 

Clarke and Lexa’s relationship began unconventionally, with sheer force of attraction drawing the two women together without any preamble of friendship or knowledge of each other beyond an innate sense that they just _belonged_ together. It might have bothered Clarke or Lexa if either of them considered it a problem. But they didn’t. It didn’t scare them that they didn’t follow the normal trajectory of what people would call a ‘healthy relationship’. Hell, they’d nearly gotten to second base the first time they met. But their relationship wasn’t just physical attraction. It was almost scarily easy for them to share intimate details, vulnerable moments, and silly silly secrets with each other. Their friendship grew just as quickly, and the crazy thing was that it didn’t feel crazy. The beginning was messy, chaotic, and overwhelming, but holy hell did it feel so right. If there really was no such a thing as love at first sight, well then – this came pretty damn close.

 

“Hey,” Clarke saunters up to Lexa and plants a kiss on her, smearing a bit of body glitter from her makeup onto Lexa, “What have you been up to?”

 

Lexa shrugs. “Nothing much. Replying Anya about birthday plans, enjoying craft services,” Lexa glances over Clarke’s latest wardrobe change, a mix between grungy rocker and fairy sprite. “You look incredible.”

 

Clarke blushes and takes her hand to streak a few more glittery streaks down Lexa’s neck. “Right back at you, dollface.”

 

“Are you finishing up here?”

 

“Yeah, just got to review a few of the prints and well be ready to go. You were right – the body language wasn’t right in the first session. I look much more natural in this one.” Clarke beams when she sees her girlfriend puff up with the compliment. “Thanks for being so patient, babe. Maybe we can grab the macarons from Ladurée you love so much before they clo – Oh, hello Cage.”

 

The man who unceremoniously joins their conversation bears a striking resemblance to what Lexa can only imagine to be a mixture of a weasel and a fox. Reflexively, Lexa stiffens at his smug expression and slinky posture. She’s seen that look all too often the courtroom. Red flags are popping up all over her mind as she observes the man approach Clarke.

 

“Clarke, you look…ravishing.” The way his voice seems to slip and slide like an eel makes his words feel less like a compliment and more like an appraisal. Clarke clearly feels the same way as she gives him a tight-lipped smile. She flicks her eyes to Lexa, whose back is still as rigid as a board.

 

“Lexa, this is Cage Wallace, one of the junior recording producers at the studio. Cage, this is Lexa.” Clarke watches as the two exchange a mechanical handshake. She sees how sharp and piercing Lexa’s stare has become.

 

“Do you work with Clarke, Mr. Wallace?” Lexa asks in a clipped tone, and suddenly Clarke doesn’t see Lexa the girlfriend, but Lexa the Commander of the courtroom.

 

“No, but I’m eager to make that happen,” Cage answers, his tone drips with self-indulgence that makes Clarke recoil inwardly. “You’ve been on the top of my list for a while, Clarke. A pretty young woman with actual talent is something I crave when I pick my artists.” She notices the way Lexa bunches her fists and grinds her jaw with quiet rage. Clarke wants to reach out and calm her down. But before she can, she hears her name called out. Clarke shoots Lexa a warning look before she excuses herself to join the photographers.

 

Lexa watches the way Cage’s eyes track Clarke across the room. His eyes hungrily roam over her backside, and Lexa can only imagine the perverse thoughts coursing through his head. She’s seen that look in men before – in rapists who claim no fault, in men who abuse their wives because they needed to “set things right”. She’s seen the way they smirk at her as she grills them about their crimes, like they still get enjoyment from riling up another female. She knows that look will never be enough, not for men like Cage. It always escalates and escalates until someone gets hurt. And there is _no fucking way_ she’s going to let Cage do that to Clarke Griffin.

 

“Mr. Wallace,” Lexa calls out to get Cage’s attention. “Before you go I want to make something very clear to you.” Lexa takes two steps closer until she is eye to eye with him. She sends him the coldest look she can muster without loosing her cool and revels in the way his façade cracks ever so slightly.

 

“You will never work with Clarke. You will never talk to her, touch her, or even look at her without her consent. Because if I ever get wind of you making Clarke uncomfortable in any way, I will make sure the music industry never wants your name on a record label ever again. Is that understood?” Her voice is eerily steady, and yet it rings like steel in the air.

 

Cage is momentarily stunned before he schools his face with another smug smirk. “Huh, and why should I worry about you?” His face transforms into something ugly as he snarls his next sentence. “My father is a top executive board member at this label. You can’t even _touch_ me in court from where you’re standing.”

 

Lexa doesn’t flinch at the insult. Her expression is frightening calm, almost bored. She can see how it frustrates Cage that he failed to rouse anything from the stoic lawyer. She merely leans forward and lowers her voice so that only Cage can hear her.

 

“Oh Mr. Wallace, I don’t need a courtroom to bury you.”

 

She let’s the ice in her voice seep through Cage before swiftly leaving to find Clarke, not looking back even once to see Cage’s response. Lexa strides over to Clarke, who has just finished selecting the final prints. Lexa wraps an arm around her waist, her grip low and with a hint of possessiveness. The move doesn’t escape Clarke, nor does Cage’s shadow as he storms away from the set.

 

“What was that?” Clarke murmurs, her eyes drifting back and forth between Lexa and Cage’s receding figure. Lexa’s hard gaze softens when she meets Clarke’s concerned look. “Nothing,” Lexa replies, reassuring her with a light kiss on the corner of Clarke’s jaw. Clarke is not convinced, her eyebrows scrunching with displeasure, her thoughts reflecting back to Cage’s predatory gaze and Lexa’s trembling fists. It's enough for her to guess what had Lexa clenching her jaw like she was trying to break it. Clarke's stubborn expression melts into something sweeter at Lexa’s protectiveness.

 

She leans into Lexa, removing any space between them. “You know I’m yours, right?” Her voice low and husky as she brushes full lips against the shell of Lexa’s ear. Lexa tightens her grip around her hips, green eyes suddenly dark and dangerous in a way that sparks a fire low in Clarke’s body. Her breath hitches when Lexa leans over and reciprocates Clarke’s maneuver. “Mine,” Lexa growls into her ear, her lips nearly pulled back in a small snarl. Lexa revels the tremble that shudders through Clarke at her possessive tone.

 

“Jesus, Lexa, you’re going to make me have to change my pants. This is _couture_. Miller will be so pissed.”

 

Lexa chuckles, her smirk grazing Clarke’s hairline. “I’d be happy to help you with that.”

 

By the time Miller finds them, Clarke is hastily tying her dressing robe as Lexa tries to brush off an obscene amount of glitter off her cheeks, neck, and collarbone. Miller heaves a long sigh before he sets off to work. He’s going to need Monty’s help to fix the makeup that now covers two sets of faces. They definitely aren’t getting paid enough.

 

 

\--~--~--~--

 

 

Clarke loves these days the best – the days spent with Lexa simply idling time away. They need not even be next to each other or engaged with one another. Just simply enjoying the presence of the other is enough. It’s a quiet afternoon in Lexa’s Brooklyn apartment in Park Slope. Clarke loves it here, much to her security team’s chagrin. She loves the homely atmosphere of antique furniture, musty books, and stacks of candles lying on every flat surface. She loves the sense of normalcy here away from the decadence her lifestyle demands. But most of all, she loves it because it is Lexa’s, and the fact that Lexa wants her here makes her heart sing.

 

Lexa is sitting at her worktable mulling quietly over a few upcoming cases. Her glasses sit low on her nose, her hair piled messily into a bun housing one or two pencils sticking out at haphazard angles. She fishes one out to scratch out a few notes in the margins before poking the pencil back into her bun like a pincushion. The denim button up hangs sinfully on her shoulders, buttons undone just enough to hint at her cleavage. Clarke admires her girlfriend from couch, her laptop draped over her thighs as she rests her feet on the coffee table. She fiddles around with the visual concept of her next album, but her attention keeps getting drawn back to the adorable scrunch in Lexa’s brow that settles when the lawyer concentrates.

 

Clarke is grateful that her fame fails to overshadow Lexa. “Of all the glory I have in the spotlight, nothing shines brighter than you,” she promises to Lexa, saying it so often it feels like a morning and evening prayer between them.

 

Lexa had never been one to shoot for status over accomplishments. If she cared about that, perhaps she would have aimed to be a CEO, or a banker, or a partner at some high-end firm. She is definitely capable enough to achieve any of those positions. Yet she choses to spend her life as a public servant, a fighter for people who can’t fight for themselves. Not even Clarke’s fame can outshine Lexa’s sense of purpose.

 

But that does not mean Lexa isn’t aware of the way fame affects their shared life together. Clarke’s visibility invites its own set of dangers, a fact that Lexa is acutely aware of. Clarke knows that Costia’s death still haunts Lexa. There are still nights where Clarke has to wrench the brunette away from the grip of a terrible nightmare, or where Clarke will wake up in clinging trembling arms and wet tears on her shoulders. Every time, Clarke coos soft reassuring words into Lexa’s ear, her lips brushing her temple back and forth until Lexa stops shaking.

 

“I can’t lose you too,” Lexa whimpers, “I just can’t bear it.” Clarke knows what Lexa is afraid of. She is afraid of the knife in Monica Selle’s shoulder. She is afraid of Princess Diana’s wrecked car. She is downright petrified of the bullets in John Lennon’s back.

 

Clarke has no fear of her fans. She has done nothing but cater and nurture her relationship with her followers in a way that promotes safe spaces for everyone around her, including herself. And she knows Lexa knows this too. But irrationality and fear are powerful things, and it breaks Clarke’s heart to see Lexa suffering over her safety. The first few weeks of their relationship were the hardest for Lexa. She put up a great appearance for Clarke’s sake, but Clarke could see the worry in flickering green eyes and tightened lips every time an overzealous fan took Clarke by surprise. And while Clarke still believes she as nothing to fear from her fans, her soul aches that she cannot reassure Lexa the way she wants to. Nonetheless, when she and Lexa find themselves surrounded by press and fans alike, Clarke presses closer into her girlfriend - snaking a gentle arm around her waist, slipping her hand into Lexa’s and giving her a little squeeze – always providing constant contact as if to say _I’m here, I’m safe, I’m yours._

 

It’s those quiet moments with the touch of Lexa on her skin and the smell of floral hair around her that Clarke choses to remember. Clarke’s lips linger with the ghost of a smile, the memory of the past chaotic yet happy months passes through her as she continues to gaze lovingly at her Lexa. It takes at least another five minutes of her adoration before Lexa digs her nose out of her books, her green eyes finally catching on Clarke’s.

 

There is a moment of suspension, where the two women just relish the beauty of the other, before Lexa breaks out with a lazy smile. She stands up, stretching and popping a few joints with a satisfied groan, before she slinks over to where Clarke is perched on the couch. Lexa plops down beside Clarke and immediately snuggles into her side, her head nuzzling at the base of Clarke’s neck. Clarke shifts her laptop off her lap before sliding her arms around to encase Lexa. Lexa lets out a happy hum and she burrows deeper into Clarke.

 

It’s been months now since they first met, and Clarke is happy to see Lexa settle more comfortably in her new environment. Lexa seems to have conquered her anxieties, but Clarke still worries. She still requests for tighter security, and she still showers Lexa with little displays of public affection – though perhaps that was more for Clarke than it was for Lexa these days. It’s no secret that she coddles her girlfriend. It’s what you do when you’re in love.

 

Lexa lifts her head from the crook of Clarke’s neck just enough to look into warm blue eyes. “Nap?” She whispers, her voice tired and hopeful. Clarke answers with a kiss on her forehead, then leans back to lie on the couch bringing Lexa with her. Legs intertwine and Lexa fidgets until she is lying comfortably on top of Clarke, her eyes fluttering close as she exhales softly. Clarke holds her just a little bit tighter to her chest. This is what she craves from Lexa, Clarke thinks. This endless calm they find with each other in the midst of the chaos. Seeing Lexa lying so contently within her arms, Clarke hopes it will be enough.

 

 

 

Turns out, it is enough. The following weekend, Clarke and Lexa are prepping to leave Clarke’s building and spend the evening at a new nightclub managed by Clarke’s friend. Clarke is dressed for the part, wearing cut-off shorts that are ‘cheeky’ to say the least, topped with a faded Iron Maiden crop top. Both Lexa and Clarke wear baseball caps for the paparazzi and the usual crowd of fans gathered by the door. Lexa stays behind in the lobby, insisting that Clarke go first and greet her loyal fans while she takes a quick call on her phone.

 

Clarke smiles, happy to see Lexa so understanding of her relationship with her followers. She strides to the modest but exuberant crowd, happily signing autographs and taking pictures. She is in the middle of signing a giant poster of her band when she feels a pinch on her butt cheek right beneath her shorts. She whirls around to throw a nasty look only to see Lexa walking away nonchalantly, her back facing Clarke. She doesn’t have to see Lexa’s face to know a smug smile is sitting proudly on that stupidly pretty face. _Why you little…_

 

She chases after Lexa, laughing and shoving her lightly in retaliation. Lexa catches her, her low laughter filling Clarke’s ears as they stumble into the SUV. They lose themselves in giggling kisses and wandering hands as Clarke’s driver discreetly rolls up the partition. It’s not until the next morning that Clarke remembers the flashing lights outside her building, and for the first time Clarke decides to google her paparazzi photos. She scrolls through countless photos until her eye catches on one photo. She pauses, savoring the way her heart seems to sing in her chest before saving it.

 

That evening, Lexa spots Clarke placing a newly framed photo on her counter. She walks over, wrapping her arms around the singer’s waist and glancing over her shoulder. Her breath hitches. The photo has perfectly captured the moment Clarke realizes Lexa’s mischievous pinch. She is the background caught in the middle of a laugh, her head thrown back and the biggest grin radiating over her face. Lexa is closer to the lens, her head angled down with the cap obscuring her eyes. But her proud smirk is on full display as she walks away glowing with victory.

 

It’s a paparazzi photo, nothing more, and yet the candid moment strikes a chord between the two women. There is not a hint of trepidation, fear, or any other dark consequence of fame lingering in the photo. There is only joy, playfulness, and love. Clarke and Lexa continue to stare at the photo almost in utter disbelieve, both thinking to each other: they’ve fucking made it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pt 2 coming tomorrow! Comments and kudos feed my soul, so please leave something for me below!
> 
> I have tumblr now! [Come say hi](https://almavivadreams.tumblr.com)


	4. Let me share this life with you (pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part! Advisory to call your dentist because shit can't get more sugary than this fluff. They freakin' deserve it. There is a teensy bit of science at the end because I'm a nerd, but I tried to make it as accessible as possible. Let me know if it falls through and I'll tweak it.
> 
> FYI - you should check this video out. It's like, SUPER important to the plot :P https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2WH8mHJnhM

It’s hard to get anything for a girl who has everything, but Lexa manages. She stumbles upon it as she cuts through Central Park trying to get crosstown. Sitting on a bench surrounded by a crowd of curious passerbys, a man is squeezing a hand saw between his legs, holding the other end of the saw in one hand and a violin bow in the other. The strangest, most ethereal sound emanates from the saw as the bow glides across its edge. The sound is otherworldly. It reminds Lexa of something right out of a sci-fi movie. Fascinated, Lexa asks the man just what exactly is he playing. Before she knows it, Lexa is walking over to Clarke’s apartment with a brand new musical saw tucked between her arms.

 

It originally is meant to be a gag gift, something that Lexa hardly thinks will elicit anything more than a giggle and an eye roll. But when she brandishes the saw and bow to Clarke, the musician’s eyes light up like it is Christmas morning and Santa has eaten all her homemade cookies.

 

“Oh my God Lexa, is this what I think it is?” Clarke asks with a hint of awe in her voice, because of course Clarke, her very-cool-and-sophisticated girlfriend, the nerdy classically trained musician turned pop star, knows exactly what a musical saw is.

 

Clarke gingerly picks up the musical saw and bow, her eyes flicking back and forth between the metal sheet and Lexa as if she’s still trying to understand how the two came together. She sits down at the piano bench and tucks the saw just like Lexa saw the man do in the park. Bending it expertly with her left hand, Clarke poises the bow right over the edge. She looks up at Lexa and bites the corner of her lips in a way that look almost timid. Lexa can hardly contain her smile at Clarke’s expression, and she raises her eyebrows expectantly before nodding at her girlfriend to continue. Clarke grins and finally drags the bow across the saw edge, creating that eerie sonorous humming that sounds both rich and hollow at the same time.

 

Before Lexa can even start to enthusiastically praise her girlfriend, Clarke drops the instrument and launches herself from the bench right into Lexa unsuspecting arms. She wraps her own arms tightly around Lexa’s neck before planting a giant smooch right on the lips. Lexa laughs into the kiss, her hands naturally finding their place around Clarke’s waist. They spent a moment getting lost within open-mouthed kisses that still send hearts racing. It’s always heated between them. Sometimes it rages so savagely that it threatens to consume them whole. Other times, like now, it simmers beneath the surface, warming their souls as they gently kindle that fire with pliant lips and wandering caresses.

 

“So I take it you like it?” Lexa teases after they part naturally, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

 

“Like it? I _love_ it.” Clarke’s child-like enthusiasm is infectious. Lexa lets it seep into her as she pecks a light kiss onto Clarke.

 

“You nerd,” Lexa pokes Clarke in the side, causing Clarke to squirm out of her arms. She saunters back over to the bench, picking up the instrument again and tests a few more notes. Fairly quickly, Clarke learns the bend and placement for enough notes to hash out a simple melody. She even throws in a bit of vibrato with a little jiggle of the handle.

 

“Wow,” Lexa remarks, impressed but not surprised by Clarke’s natural musicality, “you picked that up really quickly.”

 

Clarke smirks, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “What can I say – I’ve got talent. I bet you never…saw…that coming.”

 

Lexa’s mouth drops. Clarke did not just do that. She did not just make that _excuse_ of a joke in front of Lexa. _The nerve of this girl…_

 

The blonde cackles with glee seeing the shock on her girlfriend’s face.

 

“I’m legitimately wondering if I should break up with you right now.”

 

“Now, now, don’t get hasty. You may have just given me my next big break. Not too many popular artists have mastery over this instrument. It could be heralded as my great comeback to instrumental basics!”

 

Lexa scoffs. “What, with the musical saw?”

 

“Yeah! Imagine - I’ll literally be on the cutting edge of music.”

 

...

 

“I’m leaving.”

 

Clarke guffaws as she rushes over to Lexa, who is already stomping her way to the front door of her apartment. Clarke catches Lexa by her arms and swivels her around to clutch onto her like a spider monkey, whining insincere apologies to a very grumpy Lexa. Clarke peppers her face with kisses until Lexa huffs and gives in, sagging into her girlfriend with defeat.

 

“So dramatic…” Clarke whispers, earning another grunt from the brunette.

 

“Thank you,” Clarke murmurs after a beat, watching the leftover scowl on Lexa’s face lift into a hint of a smile. "I love you."

 

Lexa leans her head down and nuzzles Clarke, secretly overjoyed that her gift worked out so well. 

 

“I love you too,” she whispers back.

 

It becomes somewhat of a tradition. Lexa scours all over town to find eclectic - and hopefully affordable - instruments, and usually her hard work pays off. Clarke’s collection now contains the musical saw, an ocarina, a mandolin, a glockenspiel, a keytar, a lap harp, and an actual set of musical glasses. Every time, Clarke comes alive with that same childlike wonder. Lexa loves how Clarke treats even the silliest of instruments with care and affection, and she spends the rest of the day learning and honing her skills on her newest instrument. Lord help their neighbors when Lexa manages to get her hands on an authentic didgeridoo.

 

Clarke never fails to show her love for Lexa, smothering her with kisses and lingering hugs and ultimately serenading her with her newest gift. Sometimes, Lexa nearly melts at the sound of Clarke’s angelic voice singing soft folksongs with her lap harp and mandolin. Other times, Clarke gleefully torments Lexa with cheesy covers of even cheesier songs. The eighties and ninties are a particular favorite of hers for such matters. Clarke is just short of recreating “My Heart will Go On (Recorder version)” with her ocarina before Lexa threatens to launch herself off the balcony.

 

Lexa has even gained some notoriety through her present giving. Clarke’s instagramming habits have well exposed Lexa’s affinity for spoiling Clarke, and she has amassed her own little cult of fans within the already growing fandom. They lovingly dub themselves the Hearteyes, much to Lexa’s chagrin. With every new gift, Clarke insists on incorporating the new sounds into her music, much to the dismay of her band mates.

 

“I cannot believe you would do this to us, Lexa,” Raven laments in her studio as Clarke continues to shred on her keytar in full synth-loving glory. “I thought we were friends. Now you come here, and you get Clarke to mess around on _my turf_. The nerve…”

 

Even without the tinkering of instruments echoing in the halls, the apartment is full of melody. Clarke loves to hum. It’s almost incessant, and it would have been annoying to Lexa if it were anyone else but Clarke. Her voice is brilliant as always, her smooth crooning consistently accompanied by that easy smile. Tonight, as Lexa sets up the dinner table softly illuminated by candlelight, she catches the tune of Clarke’s gentle hum as she stirs a pot of pasta in the kitchen. Lexa recognizes the melody, stirring up memories of Clarke leaning in her ear humming that same tune while in bed on lazy mornings, comforting her after a rough day in the courtroom, or pressing tightly to Lexa’s bare body in the shower.

 

Lexa can’t resist scooping Clarke away from the kitchen, interrupting their unofficial background music when Clarke giggles at the way she’s hauled away from the stove. Lexa spins Clarke around, taking a moment to just gaze at Clarke before she takes the blonde’s arms and drapes them over her shoulders. With a gentle sway, Lexa starts them in a slow dance, watching the blonde’s eyes close in glowing contentment. She starts humming again, and Lexa rocks them back and forth to the slow rhythm of their song.

 

Even now, bathed in the low light, Clarke manages to steal Lexa’s breath away. Clarke is like the full moon on a clear night. She effortlessly illuminates the world around her. Her gravitational pull is so strong it moves the tides and forces everyone to take notice of her. There is a sense of serenity to her strength, a mystery to her façade, and Lexa is enraptured. And the strangest most _magical_ thing about Clarke is that she stares at Lexa as if somehow she too is just as captivated. It is a heady feeling, to be in love with Clarke Griffin. To be loved by Clarke Griffin, well, that’s a gift Lexa will spend her whole life trying to earn.

 

 

-~-~-~-~

 

 

“Clarke,” Lexa addresses warily, her voice low with the slightest hint of suspicion. “What’s going on?”

 

Clarke’s arm is wrapped tightly around Lexa’s waist while the other around firmly grips Lexa’s outstretched forearm. She pushes the brunette forward, keeping her balanced as Lexa ambles haphazardly on the concrete sidewalk.

 

“Can’t I take my smart, beautiful, amazing girlfriend on a simple stroll in New York City?”

 

“Of course you can, but what exactly does this stroll involve that requires you to blindfold me?” Lexa stumbles as her toes catch on a particularly gnarly ledge of the sidewalk. Her arms fling out on panic before Clarke catches her, sniggering before steadily encouraging her to keep moving forward.

 

“You’re not feeling in the mood, baby?” Clarke murmurs into her girlfriend’s ear, purposefully lacing her voice with an edge of sultry teasing. She preens when Lexa reflexively shudders in response and leans instinctively towards her. Lexa shakes her head as if to clear whatever indulgent thoughts Clarke’s tone just conjured up.

 

“Nice try, Clarke. But there are three observations I have noted today that make me question your motives.” Lexa is suddenly in courtroom mode. “One,” Lexa meticulously counts out her fingers. “It is my birthday, something that you have been very keenly aware of in recent days. Two, Anya has scurried me all over town today while you have been noticeably absent. And three, casual strolling with a blindfold in New York City is not only unusual but highly not recommended if the purpose of such an act is sexual in nature.”

 

Clarke lets out a long sigh, unsure if she should be turned on by her girlfriend’s sudden demanding nature or just plain exasperated at how dramatic she is.

 

“So, based upon solely these three observations and completely ignoring every other red flag that is literally waving in front of my blindfolded face, I must come to the conclusion that you have something – oh what’s that phrase again? – _ah yes_ , up your sleeve.”

 

Clarke literally gapes at Lexa. She did _not_ just try to sass an answer of out Clarke. Big Mistake.

 

“You know what, _fine._ If you’re going to be a smartass, I guess you don’t need me around to figure this out. You can just get up these stairs all by your lonesome.” And with that, Clarke steps away, leaving Lexa awkwardly posed as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff.

 

Lexa doesn’t move her feet, caution getting the best of her at the threat of uneven surfaces before her. She swings her arms around, trying to grasp onto her girlfriend, who surely didn’t abandon her in the streets of New York, right?

 

“Uh…Clarke?”

 

Clarke won’t lie and say that the apprehension in Lexa’s voice doesn’t make her rejoice in her little schadenfreude. Lexa keeps calling after her, getting a little more pitiful and whiny with each subsequent call. Clarke knows that Lexa is just putting on a show to gain her sympathy, but she’s not falling for it so easily. Or, at least Clarke is determined not to, that is, until Lexa takes one misguided step forward and immediately starts pitching over when she snags on the first step.

 

Clarke lunges and catches her disaster of a girlfriend, having in reality only stood just a two feet away from her in her ‘abandonment’. Lexa clutches onto her, the blindfold still miraculously in place as she steadies herself. Both women take just a moment to sink into each other, never growing tired of how right it felt to be pressed together.

 

“Gotcha,” Clarke hums, hands coming up to pat Lexa’s head, albeit with a hint of teasing. “Now are you going to be a good girl and let me shower you with birthday surprises?”

 

Lexa sighs exasperatingly, though clearly not enough to hide her actual delight in Clarke’s words. “Yes, dear.”

 

The two manage to make it up the flight of stairs without further incident. There are a good many of them, and Clarke can hear the cogs in Lexa’s brain turning trying to figure out just where the hell they were. She gently repositions Lexa until she’s in the perfect spot. With just a hint of flourishing, Clarke unties the black cloth around Lexa’s eyes and lets it fall to the ground. She watches as Lexa slowly opens her eyes and lets out a gasp.

 

Standing before the two women is a great white building spanning several blocks of New York City. Great alabaster stone columns stand illuminated as dusk slowly overtook the skyline. Great banners stream down the grand arches showcasing brilliantly colored insects, smatterings of galaxies, and interactive exhibits just aching to be explored. Lexa’s eyes widen as she scanned the great building, her face growing with awe and wonder. This place is familiar to Lexa. In fact, she had expressed to Clarke just how much she had been aching to visit it and surprisingly never decided to act on that urge for years. She twists her gaze to Clarke, who is wearing the widest grin at her girlfriend’s bewildered expression.

 

“Clarke…are we at the American Museum of Natural History?”

 

Clarke nods, biting her lip to stop her from saying anymore and ruining the surprise.

 

“I can’t believe you remembered,” Lexa exhales with disbelief, her eyes still scanning over the great stone arches and carvings. But she cocks her head, her eyebrows furrowing together as she realizes just how devoid the area is of people and how dark the interior of the museum looks. Her expression turns a bit rueful as she glances back at Clarke. “But…I think it might be closed.”

 

Clarke only grins harder and threatens to split her face open with it. She doesn’t say anything and loops her arms around Lexa’s to press into her side, angling her head to lean towards the crook in Lexa’s neck. Clarke tugs Lexa forward up the last flight of steps and approaches the nearly pitch black front entrance. Lexa is so caught up in her confusion that she almost misses the woman waiting next to the doors. Clarke releases her grip and greets the woman with a hug. The woman reaches and pulls the front door open, the door not catching on a lock like Lexa expected. Clarke looks back and extends her hand out for Lexa, who accepts naturally and lets herself be dragged into the dark museum.

 

The museum is not completely consumed by darkness. The lights are dim, but it is enough to cast shadows on the looming ceilings and the grand displays of dinosaur fossils, giant mammal replicas, and expansive ceiling displays. Clarke looks over to see Lexa gaping, her mouth slack-jawed and her head tilted backwards as she spins slowly to see every wondrous thing around her. She lets the warm feeling grow in her chest a bit more before turning to Niylah.

 

“Is everything good to go?”

 

“Yes, you should have the full two and a half hours. Security is in place, and we’ve made the proper arrangements to adjust to this…special request.”

 

“Thank you so much, Niylah. I owe you big time.”

 

“Hey, it’s not every day your old college roommate turned pop extraordinaire calls you up and asks you for a favor. Just know that I _will_ be asking for some concert tickets in the foreseeable future.”

 

Clarke laughs, her curls bouncing around her face as she hugs Niylah again. “Of course, it’s the least I could do.”

 

After Niylah leaves, Clarke slowly walks up to Lexa. Her face is a mixture wonder and confusion. The way she looks at Clarke nearly makes her stumble. It’s incredibly unfair how pretty she is in the low light, especially when she is making that adorable puppy face at her. Lexa lets out a huff of disbelief, her hands proffered like she’s waiting for some sort of explanation to just fall into her hands. Clarke slots her own hands into Lexa’s, intertwining them and capturing Lexa’s attention.

 

“For the past few weeks, I have been talking with Niylah, the curator of the museum,” Clarke begins, her thumbs brushing the back of Lexa’s hand. “We talked about the possibility of an individual ‘renting out’ the museum.” Lexa looks completely shell-shocked.

 

“There were quiet a few challenges, security being the most taxing thing to arrange, but we managed to pull something together. It did help that I mentioned it was going to be a great romantic gesture for my girlfriend, but only marginally.” Clarke smirks at the memory before gazing earnestly back at Lexa. She looks down to their intertwined hands as her expression sobers up.

 

“I know how difficult it can be to be with someone like me, to have the simple privileges of walking into a crowded space unnoticed and undisturbed suddenly removed from you. I know how amazing you have been in adjusting to a life you never asked for just so you can be with me. Just so I can love you. This…” Clarke gestures to the space around them. “This is for you. This is my thank you. This whole museum, all of it, for over two hours. Just for us. Just for you.”

 

Lexa’s eyes are shining. She rushes forward, cradling her hands around Clarke's cheekbones and pressing their lips together in a warm embrace. They come together, lost in each other for moments, just savoring the feel and taste of each other on their tongues as emotions swirl unchecked around them. Despite the languid pace of the kiss, the force of Lexa’s kiss hits Clarke like a freight train. So much is being articulated in those sinfully talented lips – amazement, eagerness, adoration. Clarke pulls back, loving the way glazed-over green eyes slowly slide open. She takes just a moment to admire the wonder in front of her.

 

“Happy birthday, Lexa.” Clarke breathes, her breath tickling Lexa’s full lips.

 

Lexa stares at her like she is the sun, her fingers brushing errant strands of blonde hair that have fallen haphazardly around her face. She leans forward and presses her forehead against Clarke’s. “I love you,” Lexa whispers, her lips curling up in a brilliant smile.

 

With boundless elation, the two women explore the museum, never relinquishing the hand they have gently grasped in their own. Only a few exhibits were off limits to them only because it required additional personnel to man them, and Clarke, for all her ability to convince and persuade, had conceded the battle. After all, they only had a few short hours to go through a museum that was meant to entertain for a whole day. Besides, the big exhibits, like the Fossils, Biodiversity, and the animal exhibits were all open. That should be plenty enough for her giant nerd of a girlfriend.

 

It wasn’t a well kept-secret that Lexa was a documentary and podcast nerd. Clarke wasn’t surprised to find that Lexa's history major also led her to explore lectures in natural history and anthropology.

 

So clearly, tonight Lexa is all about the dinosaurs.

 

“Touch it,” Clarke says simply after hearing Lexa ramble for minutes about how the pubic bone of Ornithischian dinosaurs were shaped to bear the extraordinary weight of their bellies.

 

Lexa starts at the sudden command. “What?”

 

“Touch the bone,” Clarke dares, eyes glinting with that hint of mischief.

 

“ _I’m not going to touch the bone_ , Clarke, it’s under preservation!” Lexa hisses even though there is no one there to overhear the scandalous suggestion. Clarke eggs her on, pointing out something about ‘all alone’ and ‘paid security’, dragging on and on until finally Lexa gives in. After a very conspicuous glance at the security cameras around, Lexa sneaks a touch on the nearest bone, her fingers just barely grazing the rough million-years-old relic.

 

“Woah…” Lexa breathes, rubbing her fingers together as if they were tingling from the forbidden contact. The awe twinkling in emerald eyes kindles the growing warmth in Clarke's chest.

 

 

 

“Look here Clarke.” Lexa murmurs a few minutes later, pointing to a small plaque found in the corner of one of the biodiversity exhibits. “' _A brief description of evolution'_. They even mention creationism here. That’s a bit of a dirty word here in this museum.”

 

Lexa thumbs over the words and begins to read out loud.

 

“ _Evolution through natural selection is the theory that all life forms on this planet developed from simple organisms to complex organisms by way of necessary and adaptive change.”_ Lexa mulls over this. “Well that’s an oversimplification if I’ve ever heard of one.”

 

She continues. “ _Often described as a ‘blind’ process, evolution cannot willfully change an organism to anticipate future events, nor can it go back and fix flaws within the organism when no initial stressor is provided. Thus, evidence of the evolution process can be found as flaws within our own bodies like relics of our ancient history_.” Lexa gives an amused hum while Clarke chuckles. “Might explain that insatiable sweet tooth, babe,” Clarke quips, earning a small scowl from the brunette.

 

“ _These flaws in our design also serve as evidence against creationism, or the theory that all living organisms are designed by God, divine by nature, and thereby free of flaws_.”

 

Lexa drums her fingers against the plaque in contemplation before she returns to Clarke’s side. “Science explaining the inherent flaws in all of us. How poetic,” Lexa says, her maudlin overtones making Clarke roll her eyes. “Someone should break that to Anya. Her ego might not handle it.” Clarke’s snigger turns into a guffaw as Lexa’s chuckle rings in her ears.

 

The two nearly run around the great museum, using up every moment seeing and learning new wonders, never once leaving each other’s side. Even now, Clarke is still caught off guard with how powerful her affection for Lexa is. It is a heady feeling, to just be their sappy nerdy selves in public without any intrusion or distraction. The two hours pass by like minutes, but both women relish them.

 

Lexa is still reeling from the experience later that evening, when both women were freshly showered and resting in bed wearing silky robes and indulging in a platter of desserts. Lexa’s cheeks are still flushed with excitement, her hand waving still exuberant even when fingers are preoccupied with sweets. They exchange sweet words into the night, aware of nothing else in the world but each other.

 

“Thank you,” Lexa mumbles to Clarke after sneaking in a linger kiss. Lexa tastes like strawberries, and Clarke can’t help but lean forward to capture those lips again and again. The sweetness from chocolate and the natural taste of Lexa sparks something sinful in Clarke as she sucks on a pliant bottom lip. Lexa sighs happily, her eyes dreamy and content. “This has honestly been the best birthday I’ve had in…it’s been the best.”

 

“Mmm I’m glad you liked it,” Clarke mutters as she nuzzles the tip of Lexa’s nose.

  
“Clarke, you rented out a whole museum for me.”

 

“Ha! Yes I did,” Clarke huffs smugly with a look of victory settling happily on her upturned lips and raised eyebrows. Lexa laughs at the silly expression as she presses herself closer to Clarke. “Don’t think that tonight is over just yet, Lexa Woods.” Clarke looks slyly at Lexa before leaning over to nibble at her jaw. “I’ve got plans.”

 

A lovely blush rises in a noticeably flustered Lexa. Clarke had long ago found her weakness for neck biting and has exploited it relentlessly. Clarke’s heart still roars with passion at the way Lexa’s breath hitches. She still can’t believe this girl is hers. Lexa is her eye in the storm, the epicenter of calm in the midst of a chaotic and often times relentless lifestyle. She is her touchstone, her one constant that she could always latch onto to find herself again when she gets lost in the spotlight. Her relationship with Lexa is something she could never have learned or prepared for. Like a missing puzzle, she slotted into her life effortlessly, like she had always belonged there. Her voice is like the instrument in her symphony of life that she never knew was incomplete. It was the easiest thing the world, being with Lexa, belonging with Lexa.

 

Clarke lifts her head from Lexa’s neck just enough to look at her girlfriend. Lexa’s eyes are closed in pleasure, her head tilted back to reveal more of that tantalizing elegant neck as her breath comes in short spurts. As much as Clarke wants to continue and lead them down a path they’ve gone down countless times, she stops herself. There is still something she needs to get off her chest. She needs Lexa to know the blissful ache in her heart is as serious as it seems.

 

“Hey,” Clarke murmurs softly, coaxing Lexa to open her eyes and focus on Clarke. “Remember that plaque we saw tonight, about evolution - how we all are flawed just through our biology alone?” Lexa tilts her head curiously, perhaps wondering why the sudden change of pace, but she nods, her half-lidded eyes still hazy from Clarke’s ministrations earlier.

 

“Well…I was thinking about it,” Clarke toys the edge of Lexa’s silk robe as she ruminates, “and I wondered – what is my flaw? What part of my design is the weakest link?” Lexa leans closer, her curiosity mixed with arousal at Clarke’s deft touch.

 

“Maybe it’s the part of me that is weak for pleasure – pleasure to blot out pain, pleasure from seeking excessive adoration and attention, pleasure from being a provocateur.” Clarke teases the robe’s edge more, revealing more of Lexa’s creamy skin and running a soft familiar finger across the slopes. By now the move is natural, and Clarke thinks little of it – her thoughts still consumed by the question. Lexa, on the other hand, is acutely aware of just how much that hand is conjuring up that familiar heat low in her body.

 

“Or maybe,” Clarke’s voice is softer now, almost a whisper as she leans closer into Lexa, “my weakness is _you_.”

 

Clarke flickers her eyes up to meet green eyes that have widened in surprise. “I’m weak for the way your eyes shine when something excites you.”

 

Clarke moves her hand to grip firmly around Lexa’s biceps, massaging the muscle in a way that is just _oh so good_ and makes Lexa hum in pleasure. “I’m weak for the way you hold yourself in public as my equal.”

 

Clarke leans forward to ghost her lips across the shell of Lexa’s ear. Clarke’s chuckle fills Lexa’s ears as she feels a smile spread across those lovely lips. “I’m weak for the way your little ears wiggle when you chew your food.”

 

Two hands come up to frame Lexa’s face, angling her face so that Clarke can stare right at her with a gaze so loving it nearly steals Lexa’s breath away. Clarke’s voice is so soft it seems reverent. “But sometimes I think, that if I were to look inside you – look beyond the physical quirks and see into your soul – well…I think you’d be the one exception to evolution’s flaws.”

 

Clarke’s eyes are shining now, her thumbs coming to caress the soft skin of Lexa’s cheek beneath her hold. “Because to me, only divinity could have created something as perfect as you.”

 

With her declaration out in the open, Clarke has nothing left to do but give into her urges and kiss Lexa. The press of her lips is gentle and soft, and she feels Lexa respond with her own pressure. She feels Lexa let out a light gasp as hands come up to tangle in blonde curls. The heat within them kindles as lips slide and tongues meet in familiar patterns and motions. The emotion and passion between them is nearly overwhelming, and both women can’t help but let a few tears slide down their cheeks.

 

Clarke parts the kiss with a damp sigh, her lips trembling as Lexa pulls her in close to keep their forehands pressed tightly together. “I love you Lexa,” Clarke whispers, her voice trembling with overpowering emotions.

 

“I love you Clarke,” Lexa echoes back, the thickness in her voice no less impassioned.

 

“Let me show you just how much,” Clarke murmurs as she leans in, her hands slipping lower to push at the hem of Lexa’s robe on her shoulder. As it falls away, Clarke lowers her head into the naked junction where neck meets shoulder, takes a deep breath, and loses herself in a love that transcends the ages.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to end with a smut scene, but I thought it best to keep this story T and add a very steamy oneshot later. Subscribe to this series to make sure you see it! It's pretty intense...
> 
> (Also I laugh every time I picture Clarke blowing into a giant didgeridoo. Can you imagine??)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you guys bathe in sweet warm Clexa feels all week long as writers I love and respect continue to feed you amazing content. 
> 
> Comments and kudos feed my soul, so please leave them below!


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